13NV 


.vUJSANGELfj 


.QF-CAIIF 


THE  COMPLETE  POEMS 

OF 

EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 

U- . 

COLLECTED,  EDITED,  AND  ARRANGED 

WITH  MEMOIR,  TEXTUAL  NOTES 

AND  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

BY 

J.  H.  WHITTY 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON   AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  I9II  AND  IQI?.  BY  J.  H.  WHITT7 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


TCtjc  XUOcrsi&r  $rcss 

CAMBRIDGE  •  MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED  IN  THE  U.S.A. 


TO 
GEORGE  EDWARD  WOODBERRV 


306123 


PREFACE 

POE  showed  the  utmost  solicitude  for  the  final  text  of 
his  poems.  He  constantly  revised  and  reprinted  them. 
Professor  G.  E.  Woodberry  in  his  revised  Life  of  Poe 
says:  "There  is  no  such  example  in  literature  of  poetic 
elaboration  as  is  contained  in  the  successive  issues  of 
these  poems. ' '  His  revisions  were  minute — sometimes  a 
mere  word,  and  again  only  a  punctuation  mark  or  two. 
But  even  the  mere  matter  of  punctuation  in  the  text,  to 
an  artistic  poet  like  Poe,  was  of  more  than  passing  mo 
ment.  Poe  himself  more  fully  explains  this  in  Graham's 
Magazine  for  February,  1848,  where  he  wrote:  "That 
punctuation  is  important  all  agree;  but  how  few  com 
prehend  the  extent  of  its  importance!  The  writer  who 
neglects  punctuation,  or  mis-punctuates,  is  liable  to  be 
misunderstood.  It  does  not  seem  to  be  known  that,  even 
when  the  sense  is  perfectly  clear,  a  sentence  may  be  de 
prived  of  half  its  force  —  its  spirit  —  its  point  —  by  im 
proper  punctuation." 

Under  these  circumstances  there  is  no  difficulty  in 
deciding  upon  Poe's  last  revision  as  the  authoritative 
and  final  text  of  his  poems.  Indeed  in  the  preface  to  the 
Stedman- Woodberry  edition  of  Poe's  poems  it  is  said, 
"The  claim  of  his  latest  revision  to  be  accepted  as 
the  authorized  text  seems  to  the  Editors  irresistible." 
The  text  of  the  poems  adopted  by  them  was  that  of 
the  so-called  J.  Lorimer  Graham  copy  of  the  1845 
edition  of  Poe's  poems,  revised  by  marginal  corrections 
in  Poe's  hand  which  were  long  regarded  as  his  final  re- 


PREFACE 

visions.  They  were  not,  however,  his  last  corrections. 
Poe  not  only  made  later  revisions  of  his  poems,  but  re 
printed  them,  and  also  while  on  his  last  visit  to  Rich 
mond  prepared  his  writings  for  a  new  edition.  John  M. 
Daniel  stated  in  the  Richmond  Examiner  of  October  12, 
1849,  that  the  last  time  he  saw  Poe  he  was  just  start 
ing  for  the  North  to  have  them  published. 

As  was  Poe's  habit  when  associated  with  various 
journals l  he  sent  into  the  composing  room  of  the  Rich 
mond  Examiner  a  number  of  his  revised  poems  and 
tales  for  publication  in  that  newspaper.  The  space  be 
ing  crowded  at  that  time,  his  copy  was  used  by  the  print 
ers  as  "stop  matter,"  to  keep  them  employed,  and  was 
typeset  for  later  publication.  Fortunately  the  revised 
proofs  of  these  poems  were  retained  by  one  of  the  print 
ers,  and  they  eventually  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  old- 
time  associate,  F.  W.  Thomas,  who  was  afterwards 
connected  with  the  Richmond  Enquirer  at  Richmond, 
Virginia.  These  poems  were:  "The  Bridal  Ballad," 
"  The  Sleeper,"  "Lenore,"  "Israfel,"  "Dream-Land," 
"The  Conqueror  Worm,"  "The  Haunted  Palace," 
"  The  Bells,"  "  For  Annie,"  "  Sonnet  to  My  Mother," 

1  Authority  of  Judge  Robert  W.  Hughes  and  other  em 
ployees  of  the  Examiner.  The  Richmond  Examiner  During  the 
War,  Or  the  Writings  of  John  M.  Daniel,  With  a  Memoir  of 
his  Life  by  his  Brother,  Frederick  S.  Daniel  (New  York.  Printed 
for  the  Author.  1868),  p.  220,  states:  "  Edgar  A.  Poe  was  induced 
to  revise  his  principal  poems  for  special  publication  in  the 
Examiner,  and  at  the  time  of  his  death  was  under  engagement 
to  furnish  literary  articles  to  its  editor,  who  regarded  him  as 
the  poet  of  America." 

While  John  M.  Daniel  was  Minister  to  Italy,  his  brother  F.  S. 
Daniel  was  his  secretary,  and  was  familiar  with  his  life  and  his 
association  with  Edgar  A.  Poe. 


PREFACE  IX 

"Annabel  Lee,"  " Ulalume,"  and  " To (A  Dream 

Within  A  Dream)." 

One  of  the  poems,  "Dream-Land,"  appeared  in  the 
Examiner  shortly  after  Poe's  death.  His  well-known 
tale,  "MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle"  as  from  "The  late  Edgar 
A.  Poe's  tales  of  the  Grotesque  and  Arabesque, "  printed 
from  the  Examiner  type  and  in  that  office,  is  now  hi  my 
possession.  The  reason  more  of  the  poems  did  not  ap 
pear  is  explained  in  the  Examiner  of  October  19,  1849, 
which  stated:  "We  do  not  quote  them  ('The  Bells')  here 
because  they  are  too  long.  We  have  already  published, 
with  his  own  corrections,  '  The  Raven/  which  is  a  beau 
tiful  specimen  of  the  more  solemn  and  elevated  of  his 
verse.  We  wish  to  give  a  sample  of  his  still  more  deli 
cate  style  —  the  epicureanism  of  language  which  was 
an  art  of  his  own.  'Ulalume'  and  'Annabel  Lee,'  the 
last  thing  he  ever  wrote,  are  samples  of  this,  but  they 
have  both  been  too  much  in  the  newspapers  of  late. 
We  therefore  choose  and  will  publish  in  our  next  one 
from  his  collected  poems  which  we  do  not  think  has 
been  properly  appreciated.  It  is  a  fanciful  picture  of 
dreams  —  and  the  broken  fantastic  images  which  cross 
the  mind's  eye  —  when  the  senses  and  judgment  are 
enveloped  in  sleep." 

This  poem  was  "Dream-Land,"  and  appeared  as  re 
vised  by  Poe  in  the  Examiner  of  October  29, 1849.  The 
editor  promised  to  give  further  reviews  of  Poe's  writ 
ings  when  he  had  more  space  for  them. 

An  important  contribution  of  Poe's  to  the  Examiner 
was  his  final  revision  of  "The  Raven."  It  was  given  as 
the  only  correct  copy  published,  and  now  appears  here 
for  the  first  time  since  its  appearance  in  that  newspaper. 
The  poems  from  proof  sheets  of  the  Examiner  were 


X  PREFACE 

compiled  by  F.  W.  Thomas  with  the  intention  of  pub 
lishing  a  volume  of  Poe's  poems.  He  wrote  his  Recol 
lections  of  Edgar  A.  Poe  for  this,  but  his  death  ended 
the  project.  Judge  Hughes  afterwards  placed  the 
manuscript  in  my  hands  for  publication  in  the  Rich 
mond,  Virginia,  Sunday  Times,  with  which  newspaper 
I  was  associated  at  the  time,  but  it  was  found  unavail 
able.  A  copy,  however,  was  retained,  and  all  the  impor 
tant  facts  and  changes  are  incorporated  in  this  volume. 
The  final  text  of  "Lenore"  left  by  Poe,  which  now 
appears  here,  is  of  inestimable  value,  and  forever  sets 
at  rest  the  discussion  as  to  Poe's  intention  of  what 
should  constitute  his  final  revision  of  that  poem.  His 
corrections  of  this  poem  in  the  J.  Lorimer  Graham 
copy  of  his  1845  poems  were  misunderstood  by  his  later 
editors  and  incorrectly  printed.  The  final  revision  of 
the  other  poems,  in  particular  "Ulalume,"  "The  Bells," 
and  "Annabel  Lee,"  now  determines  the  state  in  which 
Poe  wished  them  all  to  rest.  The  text  of  the  poems 
from  the  Baltimore  Saturday  Morning  Visitor  and  the 
Flag  of  Our  Union  appears  for  the  first  time  since 
Poe's  death.  It  is  now  established  that  "A  Dream 
Within  A  Dream"  and  "Eldorado"  first  appeared  in 
the  latter  newspaper.  The  supposed  lost  first  part  of 
the  manuscript  of  Poe's  "The  Haunted  Palace"  has 
been  found,  as  well  as  new  and  unpublished  manuscripts 
of  "The  Sleeper,"  "To  M.  L.  S.,"  and  others.  Besides 
the  eight  poems  now  first  collected,  will  be  found  two 
poems  among  the  "Additional  Poems,"  never  before 
printed  with  Poe's  poems.  The  revisions  made  by  Poe 
in  the  J.  Lorimer  Graham  edition  of  the  1845  poems 
have  never  been  fully  published,  but  they  are  now  re 
corded  here  in  the  notes  as  Poe  left  them.  The  changes 


PREFACE.  Xl 

made  by  Poe  in  the  presentation  copy  of  his  1829  poems 
to  his  cousin  Elizabeth  Herring  have  been  carefully 
examined,  and  also  appear  here  for  the  first  time. 

In  the  textual  notes  I  have  aimed  to  present  an  ex 
haustive  "variorum"  edition,  while  the  Bibliography  is, 
I  believe,  the  latest  and  most  complete  yet  published. 

With  this  new  and  authoritative  text  of  Foe's  poems, 
there  is  presented  hi  the  Memoir  a  new,  and  I  hope, 
faithful  life  of  the  poet.  It  is  the  fruit  of  researches 
extending  over  a  period  of  thirty  years  which  began  in 
Baltimore,  Maryland,  when  I  was  associated  with  the 
late  Edward  Spencer,  who  edited  the  Poe-Snodgrass  let 
ters.  The  finding  of  the  F.  W.  Thomas  Recollections  of 
E.  A.  Poe  was  a  most  fortunate  discovery.  With  the 
other  important  facts  connected  with  Poe's  history 
which  have  been  obtained,  they  have  made  it  possible 
to  present  a  comprehensive  story  of  the  poet's  career 
with  much  new  light  upon  certain  disputed  points. 

J.  H.  W. 

RICHMOND,  VA.,  March  i,  1911. 

PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

SINCE  the  first  edition  of  this  volume,  further  new 
Poe  discoveries  have  been  made.  The  most  important 
are  five  additional  poems.  There  have  also  been  found 
hitherto  unknown  manuscript  versions  of  three  of  Poe's 
poems;  also  an  introduction  to  the  poem  "For  Annie." 

The  new  verse  has  been  brought  into  Poe's  newly 
collected  poems,  and  other  later  matters  incorporated 
under  the  different  headings,  with  a  view  of  continuing 
the  volume,  as  the  one  final,  complete,  comprehensive, 
and  definite  edition  of  Poe's  poems. 

RICHMOND,  VA.,  March  i,  1917.  J-  H.  W. 


CONTENTS 


MEMOIR 


THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

v  THE  RAVEN    .','«*,'.'*     .....     ••  7 

THE  VALLEY  OP  UNREST      ........  14 

BRIDAL  BALLAD        ..    .     «     »     ......  15 

THE  SLEEPER     ....     .......  17 

THE  COLISEUM  ............  19 

LENORE  ........     .....  21 

HYMN  ...  .....  .....  33 

ISRAFEL            .                   ..........  24 

DREAM-LAND      .....     ......  26 

SONNET  —  To  ZANTE      .......      f     .      .  28 

*  THE  CITY  IN  THE  SEA   .....      ....  29 

To  ONE  IN  PARADISE    .      .......     .31 

EULALIE  —  A  SONG        ......      ...  32 

To  F  -  s  S.  O  -  D    .      .      .      -     .....  33 

To  F  -     .      .      ........      .•     .  34 

SONNET  —  SILENCE  .      .     ......     •     •  35 

THE  CONQUEROR  WORM       ........  36 

*  THE  HAUNTED  PALACE  .........  38 

SCENES  FROM  "POLITIAN"  AN  UNPUBLISHED  DRAMA    .  40 

LATER  POEMS 

THE  BELLS  .........     ...  63 

To  M.  L.  S  -      ........      f     .  67 


Xiv  CONTENTS 

To 68 

SONNET  (AN  ENIGMA)          .     * 69 

To (To  HELEN) 70 

A  VALENTINE 73 

FOR  ANNIE 74 

SONNET  —  To  MY  MOTHER .  78 

ELDORADO ......79 

"v  ANNABEL  LEE 80 

•  ULALUME  —  A  BALLAD 82 

POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 

TAMERLANE 89 

SONNET  — To  SCIENCE 98 

AL  AARAAF  ...'•'.. 99 

ROMANCE .'.....      .  116 

SONG .  117 

DREAMS 118 

SPIRITS  OF  THE  DEAD 120 

EVENING  STAR 122 

To (A  DREAM  WITHIN  A  DREAM)        .      .      .      .  123 

"!N  YOUTH  HAVE  I  KNOWN  ONE  WITH  WHOM  THE  EARTH"  124 

A  DREAM 126 

"THE  HAPPIEST  DAY,  THE  HAPPIEST  HOUR"    .     .      .127 

THE  LAKE 128 

To  129 

To  THE  RIVER  .  130 

To  ...... 131 

FAIRY-LAND 132 

To  HELEN 134 

FROM  AN  ALBUM  (ALONE) _  135 


CONTENTS  XV 

POEMS  NOW  FIRST  COLLECTED 

SPIRITUAL  SONG 139 

ELIZABETH 140 

FROM  AN  ALBUM      ..........  141 

To  SARAH 142 

THE  GREAT  MAN 143 

GRATITUDE 144 

AN  ENIGMA 146 

IMPROMPTU    To  KATE  CAROL 147 

STANZAS 148 

THE  DIVINE  RIGHT  OF  KINGS 150 

THE  VITAL  STREAM 151 

COUPLET  (DEEP  IN  EARTH  MY  LOVE  is  LYING)      .      .  152 
LINES  TO  JOE  LOCKE 153 

ADDITIONAL  POEMS  WITH  POETRY  ATTRIBUTED 
TO  POE 

SONG  OF  TRIUMPH 157 

LATIN  HYMN      .  158 

THE  SKELETON-HAND 159 

THE  MAGICIAN 162 

QUEEN  OF  MAY  ODE 164 

FANNY 165 

To (SLEEP  ON,  SLEEP  ON,  ANOTHER  HOUR)  .      .      .  166 

OH,  TEMPORA!  OH,  MORES 167 

APPENDIX 173 

NOTES  AND  VARIORUM  TEXT  OF  THE  POEMS  213 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 331 

INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 343 

WDEX  OF  TITLES 445 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE Frontispiece 

The  earliest  authentic  portrait,  from  a  miniature  in  oil  in 
possession  of  his  sister  Rosalie  Poe.  Taken  at  the  old 
"Lee  Gallery"  of  Davies,  Richmond,  Va. 

SOUTHERN    LITERARY   MESSENGER    BUILDING, 
RICHMOND,  VA. 40 

The  entrance  was  on  the  side,  with  wooden  stairway. 
Poe's  room  looked  out  from  the  window  marked  + .  The 
building  adjoining,  marked  +  + ,  was  occupied  by  Ellis 
and  Allan,  where  Poe  was  employed  after  leaving  col 
lege. 

POE'S  DESK 80 

Used  by  him  at  office  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger, 
Richmond,  Va. 

ROSALIE  POE    ....  - 98 

Sister  to  E.  A.  Poe.  From  a  unique  photograph  in  pos 
session  of  the  MacKenzie  family. 

SPIRITUAL  SONG 138 

Fragment  of  a  poem,  from  Poe's  Southern  Literary 
Messenger  desk. 

FRANCES  KEELING  ALLAN 178 

Poe's  foster-mother.  A  rare  portrait  from  a  painting  in 
oil. 

THE  FOWLDS  HOUSE,  KILMARNOCK,  SCOTLAND, 
WHERE  POE  STAYED 204 


XV111  ILLUSTRATIONS 

WHERE  POE  WENT  TO  SCHOOL,  AT  IRVINE, 
SCOTLAND 204 

STREET  IN  IRVINE,  SHOWING  BRIDGEGATE 
HOUSE,  WHERE  POE  STAYED,  AT  EXTREME 
RIGHT  .  .  .atf 


XI 

f. 

«.d 

d. 

n 


MEMOIR 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE  was  born  at  Boston,  Massachusetts, 
January  19,  1809.  This  was  the  date  entered  for  him 
in  the  matriculation  book  at  the  University  of  Vir 
ginia  in  1826.  Other  evidence  exists  to  establish  the 
date  as  true,  although  Poe  himself  has  given  the  year 
of  his  birth  as  both  1811  and  1813.  His  age  as  recorded 
at  the  United  States  War  Department  and  at  West 
Point  Military  Academy  is  also  at  variance  with  the 
accepted  date  of  his  birth. 

The  question  of  correct  age  did  not  seem  to  give 
Poe  much  concern.  In  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine 
for  April,  1840,  he  wrote:  "The  infirmity  of  falsifying 
our  age  is  at  least  as  old  as  the  time  of  Cicero,  who, 
hearing  one  of  his  contemporaries  attempting  to  make 
out  that  he  was  ten  years  younger  than  he  really  was, 
very  drily  remarked,  'Then,  at  the  time  you  and  I  were 
at  school  together,  you  were  not  born.'" 

Poe  also  called  himself  both  a  "Bostonian"  and  a 
"Virginian."  His  mother,  Elizabeth  Arnold,  arrived 
at  Boston  early  in  1796,  accompanifed  by  her  mother, 
an  actress  from  the  Theatre  Royal,  Covent  Garden. 
Mrs.  Arnold  soon  afterwards  married  a  Mr.  Tubbs, 
but  their  history  is  unknown.  The  daughter  followed 
a  theatrical  career,  and  Carr's  Musical  Repository  for 
1800  published,  among  the  popular  songs  of  the  day  — 
"Tink  a  Tink,"  and  "Chica  cho,"  as  sung  by  Miss 
Arnold  in  "  Blue  Beard."  She  married  C.  D.  Hopkins,  an 
actor,  about  May,  1802.  He  died  October  26, 1805,  and 


X  MEMOIR 

.lortly  afterwards  she  married  another  member  cf  her 
ciieatrical  company  named  David  Poe.   He  came  from 
Baltimore,  Maryland,  where  his  family  connections 
stood  well.  The  first  child,  William  Henry  Leonard  Poe, 
was  probably  born  in  1807.   He  was  afterwards  taken 
in  charge  by  his  father's  family  at  Baltimore.    The 
Boston  tax  office  shows  that  David  Poe,  actor,  was 
assessed  in  May,  1808,  with  three  hundred  dollars, 
personal  property,  which  represented  at  least  double 
that  amount.   The  Poe  family  left  Boston  in  the  fall 
of  1809,  and  joined  the  New  York  Company,  playing 
with  them  until  the  end  of  the  following  season  in  July. 
In  New  York  all  definite  traces  of  David  Poe  seem  lost. 
Mrs.  Poe  joined  her  old  company  and  appeared  with 
them  without  her  husband,  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  Au 
gust  18,  1810.  The  notice  in  the  Richmond  Enquirer  of 
that  date  announcing  the  play, "  Castle  Spectre,"  has,  — 
"Mrs.  Poe  as  Angela  (From  the  Theatre,  New  York)." 
She  also  took  the  part  of  "Maria"  in  the  afterpiece 
called,  "Of  Age  To-morrow."    All  the  names  of  the 
company  were  printed,  but  that  of  David  Poe  did  not 
appear.   A  benefit  was  given  Mrs.  Poe  September  21, 
when  she  sang  and  danced.  The  company  left  Rich 
mond  November  14,  1810.  The  fact  that  the  company 
with  Mrs.  Poe  were  in  Norfolk,  Virginia,  in  December, 
and  that  she  did  not  appear  upon  the  stage,  would  indi 
cate  that  her  third  child,  Rosalie,  was  born  there  about 
that  date.  This  event  probably  occurred  at  the  Forrest 
Mansion,  in  that  city,  and  has  led  to  the  supposition 
by  some,  that  it  was  Edgar's  birth,  instead  of  his  sister's. 

E.  A.  Poe  stated  that  his  father  died  within  a  few 
weeks  of  his  mother  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  which  can 
not  be  verified.  Strong  svidence  to  the  contrary  tends 


MEMOIR  XXI 

to  show  that  David  Poe  was  dead,  or  had  deserted 
his  family,  prior  to  Mrs.  Poe's  last  visit  to  Richmond. 
F.  W.  Thomas  in  his  manuscript  Recollections  of  E.  A. 
Poe  states:1  "I  was  intimate  with  Poe's  brother  in 
Baltimore  during  the  year  1828.  He  was  a  slim,  feeble 
young  man,  with  dark  inexpressive  eyes,  and  his  fore 
head  had  nothing  like  the  expansion  of  his  brother's. 
His  manners  were  fastidious.  We  visited  lady  ac 
quaintances  together,  and  he  wrote  Byron  poetry  in 
albums,  which  had  little  originality.  He  recited  in 
private  and  was  proud  of  his  oratorical  powers.  He 
often  deplored  the  early  death  of  his  mother,  but  pre 
tended  not  to  know  what  had  become  of  his  father.  I 
was  told  by  a  lawyer  intimate  with  the  family  that  his 
father  had  deserted  his  mother  in  New  York.  Both 
his  parents  had  visited  Baltimore  when  he  was  a  child, 
and  they  sent  money  from  Boston  to  pay  for  his  sup 
port." 

Mrs.  Poe  went  to  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  after 
leaving  Norfolk,  and  the  Courier  of  that  city  printed  the 
following,  April  28, 1811:  "For  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Poe 
on  Monday  evening  April  2Qth,  will  be  presented, '  The 
Wonder,'  or  '  A  Woman  Keeps  a  Secret ' ;  after  the  play 
a  comic  pantomimical  ballet  called '  Hurry  Scurry,  or  the 
Devil  among  the  Mechanics,'  to  which  will  be  added, 
the  much  admired  entertainment  called  'The  Highland 
Reel.' "  Mrs.  Poe  and  her  company  returned  to  Nor 
folk,  Virginia,  the  following  July.  In  a  notice  of  Mrs. 
Poe's  benefit,  July  26, 1811,  the  Norfolk  Herald  printed 
a  communication  stating:  "Misfortunes  have  pressed 
heavily  upon  Mrs.  Poe,  who  has  been  left  alone,  the 

1  All  statements  from  F.  W.  Thomas  are  from  the  same  source. 


XX11  MEMOIR 

support  of  herself  and  several  young  children."  This, 
printed  under  Mrs.  Poe's  own  eye,  while  she  was  in 
Norfolk,  strongly  indicates  that  her  husband  had  in 
some  manner  left  the  family.  No  record  of  his  death 
can  be  found  at  Norfolk  or  Richmond.1 

From  Norfolk  Mrs.  Poe  went  to  Richmond  in  August, 
1811,  and  there  she  made  her  last  appearance  on  the 
stage  October  n.  It  is  a  coincidence  that  Poe  also  made 
his  last  public  appearance  in  Richmond.  A  benefit  for 
Mrs.  Poe  was  repeated  in  Richmond,  and  an  appeal  for 
charity  for  her  published  in  a  daily  paper.  She  died 
December  8,  as  recorded  in  the  Richmond  Enquirer, 
December  10;  and  a  notice  that  her  funeral  would  take 
place  on  Tuesday,  December  10,  appeared  in  the  Rich 
mond  Virginia  Patriot  of  that  date.  No  record  of  her 
burial  place  has  been  found  in  Richmond.  I  have  made 
careful  search,  and  only  find  an  entry  of  a  burial  by  the 
city  corresponding  with  the  date  of  her  death,  in  old 
St.  John's  Churchyard,  but  no  name  is  given. 

Edgar  Poe  was  taken  in  charge  by  Mrs.  John  Allan, 
and  his  sister  by  Mrs.  William  MacKenzie,  both  Rich 
mond  families.  Mrs.  Allan's  husband  reluctantly  ac 
quiesced  in  the  quasi-adoption  of  Edgar.2  Although 
John  Allan's  financial  affairs  were  not  prosperous,  the 
family  lived  in  modest,  but  comfortable  circumstances. 
It  is  said  that  Edgar  was  baptized  December  n,  1811, 

1  The  statements  by  Poe  himself,  and  his  biographers,  that 
David  Poe  died  in  Richmond,  also  the  recent  claim  as  to  Nor 
folk,  Virginia,  have  no  foundation  of  fact. 

*  This,  with  other  direct  early  information  concerning  Poe  and 
the  Allan  family,  is  derived  from  Judge  R.  W.  Hughes,  Dabney 
Dandridge,  a  colored  servant  of  the  Allans,  and  other  old  Rich 
mond  residents.  (The  Allans  also  had  another  old  servant  named 
"Jim.") 


MEMOIR  XX111 

but  I  am  unable  to  find  the  church  record.  The  family, 
with  Edgar  and  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Allan's,  Miss  Ann 
Moore  Valentine,  went  to  London,  England,  in  the 
summer  of  1815.  There  Edgar  was  sent  to  the  Acad' 
emy  of  Rev.  Dr.  Bransby,  in  Stoke  Newington,  near 
London.  This  school  is  well  portrayed  by  Poe  in  his 
story  called  "William  Wilson."  He  also  attended  the 
Misses  Dubourg's  boarding-school  in  London.  F.  W. 
Thomas  states  that  Poe  told  him  that  his  school  days 
in  London  were  sad,  lonely  and  unhappy.  In  Burton's 
Gentleman's  Magazine  for  April,  1840,  Poe  wrote: "  Since 
the  sad  experience  of  my  schoolboy  days  to  this  present 
writing,  I  have  seen  little  to  sustain  the  notion  held 
by  some  folks,  that  schoolboys  are  the  happiest  of  al! 
mortals."  Poe  visited  Scotland,  stopping  with  mem 
bers  of  the  Allan  family,  at  Irvine  and  Kilmarnock. 
He  attended  school  at  Irvine.  He  wrote  A.  Ramsey, 
of  Stonehaven,  Scotland,  December  30,  1846,  asking 
about  the  Allans. 

Allan's  business  affairs  in  London  were  unsuccessful, 
and  after  five  years'  absence  the  family  returned  to 
Richmond,  Virginia,  in  the  summer  of  1820.  They  settled 
down  again  to  economical  living,  and  Poe  was  sent  to 
the  school  of  J.  H.  Clarke.  Allan  wished  to  give  him 
an  education,  but  otherwise  was  cold  and  formal, 
while  his  wife  was  the  reverse.  Edgar  was  of  an  effemi 
nate  disposition,  and  although  he  indulged  in  boyish 
sports,  preferred  girls  for  playmates.  In  one  of  his 
early  magazine  notes  he  speaks  of  using  roller  skates 
in  his  boyhood,  to  show  that  they  were  not  a  more 
modern  invention.  He  also  had  more  than  the  usual 
boy's  yearning  for  reading  matter.  Allan's  library  was 
scant,  and  he  had  peculiar  notions  of  what  Edgar 


XXIV  MEMOIR 

should  read.  Mrs.  Allan,  a  consistent  member  of  the 
Episcopal  Church,  was  mainly  seeking  to  instill  in  his 
mind  the  fear  of  God. 

Among  the  intimate  church  acquaintances  of  Mrs. 
Allan  were  the  families  of  Chief  Justice  John  Marshall 
and  J.  H.  Strobia,  both  mentioned  by  Poe  in  later  life. 
Eclgar  always  accompanied  Mrs.  Allan  to  church  meet 
ings,  and  here  was  likely  laid  the  foundation  of  his 
knowledge  of  the  Bible  and  Christian  religion.  John 
Allan  was  not  much  of  a  church  attendant,  and  rather 
a  liberal  thinker.  The  germ  out  of  which  Poe's  later 
materialism  evolved  may  have  come  from  this  source. 
There  seems  an  autobiographical  hint  of  this  in  his  tale 
"The  Domain  of  Arnheim,"  which  he  has  said  contains 
"much  of  his  soul."  Here  he  wrote:  "Some  peculiar 
ities,  either  in  his-early  education,  or  in  the  nature  of 
his  intellect,  had/tinged  with  what  is  termed  material 
ism  all  his  ethical  speculations;  and  it  was  this  bias, 
perhaps,  which  led  him  tobelieve  that  the  most  advan- 
v  tageous  at  least,  ifnoj/me  sole  legitimate  field  for  the 
^  poetic  exercise,  liesin  the  creation  of  novel  moods  of 
purely  physical  loveliness."  Mrs.  Allan  also  had  a  god 
child  named  Catherine  Elizabeth  Poitiaux,  who  was 
Poe's  early  playmate  and  child-love.  At  church  Poe 
met  the  early  companion  of  his  boyhood,  Ebenezer 
Burling,  the  son  of  a  widowed  mother,  who  lived 
in  a  house  on  Bank  Street,  in  which  Poe  was  after 
wards  married  and  resided  with  his  wife  and  Mrs. 
Clemm. 

There  Poe  also  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  his  sweet 
heart,  Sarah  Elmira  Royster,  who  was  to  inspire  so 
much  of  his  youthful  verse.  In  early  boyhood  Burling 
and  Poe  were  often  together.  When  matters  went 


MEMOIR  XXV 

wrong  at  Allan's,1  Edgar  hastened  to  Burling's  home, 
and  spent  the  night  there,  in  opposition  to  the  Allans' 
wishes.  It  was  Burling  who  taught  Poe  to  swim,  and 
also  engaged  with  him  in  other  manly  sports.  Dr. 
Rawlings,  who  lived  near  Burling  and  attended  him, 
said  that  he  was  rough  in  his  manner  and  of  a  different 
disposition  to  Poe.  He  was  fond  of  light  literature,  and 
most  likely  Poe  derived  some  of  his  early  ideas  of  adven 
ture  from  him,  and  there  obtained  his  reading  matter 
on  such  subjects. 

Poe's  own  statement  of  his  first  reading  of  "  Robin 
son  Crusoe,"  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  for 
January,  1836,  is  interesting.  He  wrote:  "How  fondly 
do  we  recur  in  memory  to  those  enchanted  days  of  our 
boyhood  when  we  first  learned  to  grow  serious  over 
Robinson  Crusoe! — when  we  first  found  the  spirit  of 
wild  adventure  enkindling  within  us;  as  by  the  dim 
firelight,  we  labored  out,  line  by  line,  the  marvellous 
import  of  those  pages,  and  hung  breathless  and  trem 
bling  with  eagerness  over  their  absorbing  —  over  their 
enchanting  interest!  Alas!  the  days  of  desolate  islands 
are  no  more!" 

These  sad  words,  with  the  plaintive,  "no  more," 
were  written  from  a  window  with  a  view  of  his  boyhood 
haunts,  while  adjoining  was  the  old  warehouse  of  Ellis 
&  Allan,  where  he  spent  many  hours  of  his  youth.  That 
he  frequented  this  place  early  is  shown  by  a  power  of 
attorney  given  by  the  firm  November  17,  1823,  which 
has  Edgar  Allan  Poe  as  a  witness.2  It  was  in  the  spring 
of  the  year  1825  that  John  Allan  inherited  money  from 

1  Mrs.  Clemm  said  this  was  not  infrequent. 
*  This  with  his  name  in  an  early  school  book  in  my  possession 
are  his  earliest  known  autographs. 


XXVI  MEMOIR 

an  uncle.  And  soon  after  this  he  surrounded  his 
home  with  luxuries — purchased  costly  draperies,  and, 
besides  the  foundation  for  a  library,  added  works  of 
art,  including  a  marble  bust  of  Mary  Magdalen  by 
Canova,  and  another  of  Dante.  This  sudden  change 
in  the  mode  of  living  must  have  had  its  effect  upon 
Edgar's  mind.  Here  might  be  found  the  germ  for 
some  tastes  displayed  in  after  years,  —  his  minute  de 
scriptions  of  draperies  and  of  furniture.  About  this 
same  period  another  change  took  place  in  the  family 
affairs  tending  to  leave  a  greater  impress  upon  the 
discerning  mind  of  the  boy  Edgar.  The  marital  rela 
tions  of  the  Allans  became  unhappy.  The  reasons 
that  caused  the  second  Mrs.  Allan  to  renounce  her 
husband's  will,  May  26,  1834,  began  to  trouble  the 
first  wife.  John  Allan  stated  in  his  will  made  April  17, 
1832,  and  recorded  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  that  he 
had  confessed  his  fault,  before  marriage  to  his  second 
wife.1 

A  letter  of  the  second  Mrs.  Allan's,  written  to  Colonel 
T.  H.  Ellis,  is  on  record,  very  damaging  to  Poe.  The 
Valentine  Museum  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  has  numer 
ous  unpublished  letters,  written  by  Poe  to  John  Allan, 
with  the  latter's  notations  on  them,  which  were  read 
to  a  small  select  audience  in  Richmond,  some  years 
ago.  The  letters  taken  with  the  notations  are  said  to 

1  He  also  left  several  legacies  to  provide  for  the  maintenance 
of  the  results  of  this  fault.  The  Richmond  court  records  with 
the  original  entry  of  this  will  were  destroyed  by  fire.  It  was  also 
recorded  in  another  court,  but  was  not  accessible  to  Poe's  pre 
vious  biographers.  I  have  a  copy  of  the  will,  as  well  as  the  full 
proceedings  of  the  lengthy  legal  contest  made  to  break  the  will 
of  the  second  Mrs.  Allan,  which  was  finally  decided  by  the 
Supreme  Court. 


MEMOIR  XXV11 

give  an  impression  that  Poe  was  ungrateful  to  his 
patron.  They  also  contain  references  to  other  people, 
which  has  hindered  their  early  publication.  They  are 
said  to  date  from  1826  to  1830,  referring  mainly  to 
his  college  career,  and  represent  Poe  in  a  sincere,  but 
sad  mood. 

All  these  circumstances,  as  well  as  the  importance  of 
showing  the  influences  surrounding  Poe's  early  bring 
ing  up,  make  it  necessary  for  this  memoir  not  to  ignore 
the  existing  documents  in  the  matters,  which  are  also 
public  records.  With  Mrs.  Allan  suspicious  and  jealous 
of  her  husband,  the  natural  disposition  of  Poe  was  to 
side  with  her  in  family  matters,  which  made  Allan 
anxious  to  have  him  out  of  the  way.  The  educational 
solution  was  the  best  that  offered  itself  and  the  easiest 
to  arrange  with  both  Poe  and  Mrs.  Allan.  It  was  de 
cided  to  send  Edgar  to  the  University  of  Virginia,  but 
he  seems  to  have  been  reluctant  in  going  there.  He 
had  been  making  desperate  love  to  Miss  Royster,  and 
his  pleadings  had  not  been  in  vain.  The  old  colored 
servitor,  who  assisted  Poe  in  getting  away,  has  left  a 
statement  that  Edgar  and  Mrs.  Allan  were  sad  at  heart 
the  day  he  left  for  the  University,  and  on  the  way  Poe 
intimated  a  desire  to  break  away  from  Allan,  and  seek 
his  own  living.  He  intrusted  the  servant  with  a  letter 
to  be  handed  in  person  to  Miss  Royster,  which  was  the 
last  she  was  to  see  for  some  time.  For  with  the  ardent 
lover  away  her  parents  intercepted  Poe's  letters  and 
soon  substituted  another  suitor,  to  whom  she  was  mar 
ried.  All  his  letters  to  Miss  Royster  were  destroyed  but 
one,  and  this  the  newly  wedded  found  when  it  was  too 
late.  Without  response  to  his  letters,  Poe  felt  that  his 
first  and  only  love  had  proven  untrue  to  her  vows  to 


XXV111  MEMOIR 

him.  His  relations  with  Allan  were  uncongenial  and 
his  money  allowances  rather  meagre.  In  the  company 
of  gay  companions  he  became  reckless,  indulged  in 
liquor,  played  cards  for  money,  and  became  involved 
in  debt.  He  stood  well  in  his  studies  at  the  University, 
but  left  at  the  end  of  the  session,  December  15,  1826, 
under  a  financial  cloud,  with  lawyers  trying  to  force 
Allan  into  paying  his  gambling  debts.1 

Upon  Poe's  return  to  Richmond,  Mrs.  Allan  greeted 
him  with  oldtime  endearments,  which  her  husband  re 
sented.  He  made  Poe  feel  in  the  way,  and  put  him  to 
work  in  his  firm's  counting-house.  Here  Poe  chewed 
the  cud  of  bitter  discontent.  He  first  wrote  a  letter  to 
The  Mills  Nursery  of  Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania,  with 
whom  the  Allan  firm  had  dealings,  asking  for  employ 
ment.  That  firm  sent  the  letter  to  Allan,  and  the  matter 
ended  in  a  war  of  warm  words.  Poe,  with  a  determined 
will,  had  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  Richmond.  Besides 
the  discontent  at  home,  he  found  Miss  Royster  had 
been  sent  away  from  Richmond.  Her  parents  now  de 
manded  that  he  wait  for  any  marriage  another  year  or 
two  longer,  to  which  Poe  finally  consented.  This  love 
affair  was  sadly  complicated.  When  Poe  returned  to 
Richmond  in  the  year  1829,  he  found  his  sweetheart  had 
been  married  to  another.  In  a  matter-of-fact  story  writ 
ten  by  Poe  early  in  1835  he  mentioned  that  after  leaving 
college  he  went  down  to  his  guardian's  country  place, 
and  also  dipped  into  the  study  of  law.  He  also  made 

a  reference  to  "E P ,  who  swam  from  Mayo's 

Bridge  to  Warwick  wharf  some  years  ago."  This  swim 
ming  feat  has  been  frequently  mentioned. 

In  a  letter  to  a  Richmond  editor  in  May,  1835,  Poe 
1  The  attorneys'  letters  are  still  preserved  in  Richmond. 


MEMOIR  XXIX 

wrote:  "The  writer  seems  to  compare  my  swim  with 
that  of  Lord  Byron,  whereas  there  can  be  no  comparison 
between  them.  Any  swimmer  '  in  the  falls '  in  my  days, 
would  have  swum  the  Hellespont,  and  thought  nothing 
of  the  matter.  I  swam  from  Ludlam's  wharf  to  Warwick 
(six  miles),  in  a  hot  June  sun,  against  one  of  the  strong 
est  tides  ever  known  in  the  river.  It  would  have  been 
a  feat  comparatively  easy  to  swim  twenty  miles  in  still 
water.  I  would  not  think  much  of  attempting  to  swim 
the  British  Channel  from  Dover  to  Calais." 

The  Allans  had  a  country  place  in  Goochland  County, 
Virginia,  called  "The  Lower  Byrd  Plantations,"  which 
Poe  may  have  visited  at  some  time.  But  he  did  not 
linger  long  about  Virginia.  The  supposition  is  that  he 
concluded  that  London  was  his  "  Eldorado,"  and  that 
whatever  literary  dreams  he  had,  were  beginning  to 
shape  themselves.  Judge  Hughes  had  the  statement 
from  the  owner  of  a  vessel  trading  with  Allan's  firm 
that  Poe  had  made  an  arrangement  to  work  his  way 
to  England  in  his  vessel.  Allan  is  said  to  have  been 
fully  aware  of  this.  However,  when  the  time  came  for 
Poe  to  tell  his  designs  to  Mrs.  Allan,  she  went  into 
hysterics  and  would  not  allow  the  subject  to  be  men 
tioned  again.  Through  her  entreaty  the  vessel  owner 
was  seen  by  Allan  and  the  plans  abandoned.  But  it 
seems  that  Poe  meant  to  carry  out  his  adventure  at  all 
hazards.  He  is  said  to  have  talked  the  matter  over  with 
his  companion,  Burling,  who  became  enthusiastic  and 
consented  to  join  him  in  the  trip  abroad.  Burling  had 
become  addicted  to  drink,  and  a  favorite  resort  of  his 
was  an  inn  kept  by  Mrs.  E.  C.  Richardson.  They  both 
quietly  arranged  to  work  their  way  in  a  vessel  bound 
for  England.  The  old  colored  servant,  who  knew  the 


MEMOIR 

secret,  told  Judge  Hughes  that  he  wanted  to  tell  Mrs. 
Allan,  but  fear  kept  him  from  it.  He  carried  a  small 
bundle  of  Poe's  personal  effects  from  his  room  to  Mrs. 
Richardson's.  Poe  and  Burling  afterwards  went  there 
in  a  hack,  spending  the  night,  and  leaving  early  the  next 
morning  for  the  vessel,  lying  at  the  dock.  During  his 
short  stay  in  Richmond  Poe  paid  some  attention  to  a 
young  lady  stopping  with  Mrs.  Juliet  J.  Drew.  The 
colored  servant  remembered  carrying  notes  to  her  there 
but  did  not  recall  her  name.  After  sobering  up,  Bur 
ling  deserted  at  the  first  stopping  point  the  vessel 
reached  and  returned  to  Richmond.  Mrs.  Allan  had 
frequent  fainting  spells  after  Poe  left,  and  when  she 
learned  from  Burling  that  he  had  gone  abroad,  she  was 
for  weeks  inconsolable.  She  tried  to  have  her  hus 
band  take  steps  to  have  him  return,  but  he  never 
seemed  to  trouble  himself  again  in  the  matter.  Mrs. 
Allan  wrote  Poe  two  letters,  begging  him  to  return  and 
absolving  him  from  all  blame  in  the  Allan  family  mat 
ters.  Poe's  wife  guarded  these  letters  with  jealous  care 
during  her  life.  When  she  was  about  to  die  she  asked 
that  they  be  read  to  her.  Eliza  White,  daughter  of  the 
founder  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  remembered 
the  incident,  and  her  impression  was  that  the  letters 
had  been  sent  to  Poe  abroad.  She  recalled  the  matter 
more  readily,  because  she  had  seen  the  letters  some 
years  previously  in  Richmond,  where  Poe's  wife  had 
shown  them  to  her  family.  Mrs.  Smith,  formerly  Miss 
Herring,  Poe's  Baltimore  cousin  and  early  love,  who 
was  about  the  Poe  house  at  the  time  Virginia  died, 
told  Miss  White  afterwards  that  she  had  the  letters.1 

1  I  have  made  repeated  efforts  to  locate  the  papers  of  Mrs. 
Smith,  who  died  about  1887,  but  her  nearest  relative  could  give 


MEMOIR  XXXI 

While  it  is  generally  admitted  that  Poe  left  Rich 
mond  in  a  sailing  vessel,  it  is  disputed  that  he  ever 
reached  England.  An  argument  is  that  the  time,  from 
March  to  May  26,  was  insufficient  for  the  events. 
The  "Florida"  had  a  record  of  a  trip  in  twenty-five 
days,  while  other  vessels  made  much  quicker  time. 
If  the  ocean  trips  had  consumed  as  much  time  as  the 
"Florida's"  records,  which  is  unlikely,  there  would 
still  have  been  time  for  further  events.  The  time  to 
me  seems  ample.  Burling,  who  left  Richmond  hi  the 
vessel  with  Poe,  told  Dr.  George  W.  Rawlings  that  their 
destination  was  England.  Judge  Hughes  is  the  author 
ity  that  Burling  also  informed  Mrs.  Allan  that  Poe  had 
gone  abroad.  Miss  Eliza  White  was  of  the  opinion  that 
the  two  letters  written  to  Poe  by  Mrs.  Allan  were  sent 
to  him  abroad.  Miss  Ann  Valentine  has  stated  that  Poe 
corresponded  with  Mrs.  Allan  while  he  was  in  Europe. 
The  second  Mrs.  Allan  has  stated  in  her  letter  to 
Colonel  T.  H.  Ellis  that  Poe's  letters  were  scarce  and 
dated  from  St.  Petersburg,  Russia.  They  may  have 
had  other  European  dates,  and  being  probably  familiar 
with  Poe's  own  legend  of  his  visit  to  Russia,  she  was  in 
error. 

F.  W.  Thomas  states:  "Henry  Poe  visited  his  brother 
in  Richmond  twice,  the  last  time  in  1825.  He  said  Edgar 
had  quarrelled  with  Mr.  Allan  after  coming  from  col 
lege,  about  the  small  allowance  of  money  he  was  re 
ceiving,  and  left  him.  He  worked  his  own  passage 
abroad  in  a  vessel,  reaching  the  metropolis  of  England 

me  no  information.  Some  poetry  written  by  Poe  to  Miss  Herring, 
also  a  copy  of  his  early  poems  presented  to  her,  were  sold  some 
years  since.  It  is  likely  that  the  original  possessor  of  this  mate 
rial  holds  these  letters. 


XXX11  MEMOIR 

after  a  rough  voyage.  There  he  met  with  disappoint 
ment  in  finding  employment,  and  his  funds  being  low 
proceeded  to  Paris,  still  hoping  to  find  work.  What 
money  he  had  left  was  taken  from  him,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  a  sum  sufficient  to  pay  his  passage  back  to 
London.  Thus  left  without  money  and  without  friends 
he  hurried  back  to  England,  where  he  took  passage  in 
a  vessel  for  America,  bound  for  a  New  England  port." 
Wherever  he  sailed  in  these  days,  he  afterwards  dis 
played  in  his  writings  considerable  nautical  knowledge, 
and  like  Camoens,  the  poet,  he  also  held  on  to  his 
manuscript  verses,  through  all  his  vicissitudes.  He  met 
with  C.  F.  S.  Thomas  in  Boston,  who  published  them 
in  his  first  volume  of  poems,  —  "Tamerlane,  By  A 
Bostonian.  Boston,  1827."  The  book  could  not  have 
brought  him  any  money,  and  only  found  slight  notice. 
Poe  determined  to  try  the  army,  and  enlisted  May  26, 
1827,  at  Boston  under  the  name  of  Edgar  A.  Perry. 
He  was  assigned  to  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  and 
one  year  later  transferred  to  Fortress  Monroe,  Virginia, 
where  he  was  appointed  Sergeant  Major.1  While  at 
Fortress  Monroe,  Poe  was  identified  by  a  relative  of 
Mrs.  Allan,  who  communicated  the  fact  to  her.  She  was 
ill,  and  pleaded  to  see  Edgar  again.  She  interested  her 
husband  in  aiding  Poe  to  secure  a  discharge.  In  doing 
this,  however,  Allan  made  sure  that  Poe  was  to  enter 
West  Point  and  that  he  would  not  trouble  him  again. 

1  A  peculiar  fact  connected  with  his  army  career  was  an  appoint 
ment  at  Charleston,  May  i,  1828,  as  "artificer."  The  office  called 
for  "military  mechanics,"  of  some  kind,  which  Poe  was  never 
known  to  possess.  The  records  do  not  show  what  duties  he  per 
formed,  or  whether  he  actually  displayed  mechanical  skill  in 
any  way. 


MEMOIR  XXX111 

Mrs.  Allan  died  February  28, 1829,  which  made  a  change 
in  Poe's  future  dreams.  In  one  of  the  many  sadly  writ 
ten  letters  in  the  Valentine  Museum,  Richmond,  he 
refers  to  his  foster  mother  in  the  most  affectionate 
terms,  and  intimates  that  matters  would  have  taken 
a  different  course  if  she  had  lived. 

While  awaiting  entry  to  West  Point,  Poe  still  carried 
his  manuscript  verses  and  had  begun  to  revise  them. 
His  mind  seemed  bent  on  a  literary  career.  After  his 
discharge  from  the  army  he  went  to  Baltimore  in  1829, 
and  there  published  his  second  volume  of  poems,  — 
"Al  Aaraaf,  Tamerlane  and  Minor  Poems."  When 
editing  them  he  sent  a  notice  with  some  of  his  verses 
to  the  Yankee  of  Boston.  He  presented  his  cousin, 
Elizabeth  Herring  of  Baltimore,  with  a  copy  of  these 
poems,  which  he  afterwards  used  to  make  the  revision 
of  his  1845  edition.  He  entered  West  Point  in  July, 

1830,  and  while  there  spent  a  part  of  his  time  in  again 
revising  his  poems.  He  sent  his  fourth  known  publica 
tion,  "  Sonnet  —  To  Science,"  in  October  to  the  Phila 
delphia  Casket.  He  tired  of  soldier  life  and  obtained 
his  dismissal  in  March,  1831,  by  giving  offense  against 
discipline.  A  letter  written  by  him  to   the  Superin 
tendent  is  on  file  at  the  Academy,  dated  March  10, 

1831,  asking  for  a  certificate  of  his  standing  in  his 
class,  and  intimating  an  intention  of  joining  the  Polish 
army.  Shortly  afterwards  he  published  his  third  vol 
ume  of  poems,  which  was  not  a  financial  success.   He 
visited  Baltimore,  and  May  6, 1831,  wrote  a  letter  to 
W.  Gwynn  asking  employment. 

F.  W.  Thomas  says:  "I  removed  to  the  country  in 
1829  and  lost  sight  of  Poe's  brother.  In  1831  I  emi 
grated  to  Cincinnati,  and  for  some  years  afterwards 


XXXIV  MEMOIR 

travelled  through  the  West,  along  the  Ohio  and  Missis 
sippi.  On  one  of  these  trips  of  pleasure  from  Pittsburg 
to  New  Orleans  in  a  first-rate  steamer,  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  an  interesting  character  named  James 
Tuhey,  belonging  to  the  steamer's  crew.  He  possessed 
more  than  ordinary  musical  ability  and  was  especially 
proficient  with  the  flute.  I  would  sit  with  him  for  hours 
in  a  quiet  corner  and  listen  to  his  sailor  lore.  He  ob 
served  my  manuscript  as  I  was  writing  to  a  Cincinnati 
newspaper  and  wanted  to  know  if  I  was  writing  poetry. 
I  told  him  no.  He  replied  that  so  much  manuscript 
reminded  him  of  a  Baltimore  acquaintance  named 
Poe.  I  thought  at  once  that  he  had  reference  to  Henry 
Poe,  but  soon  found  that  it  was  Edgar  A.  Poe  he  knew. 
I  also  learned  that  Tuhey  lived  at  Fells  Point  in  Balti 
more,  when  I  left  there,  and  had  only  recently  come  out 
to  the  West.  He  was  a  native  of  Ireland.  In  Baltimore 
he  had  an  acquaintance  with  a  family  named  Cairnes. 
They  were  some  connection  of  Poe's.  At  their  house 
he  often  met  Poe. 

"  Tuhey  spoke  of  him  as  stopping  alternately  with 
one  relative,  and  then  another,  but  later  on  spending  all 
his  time  with  the  widow,  Mrs.  Clemm.  He  wrote  for  the 
newspapers,  but  earned  small  pay.  While  living  with 
the  Cairnes,  Poe  made  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  De- 
veraux,  a  dark-eyed  beauty,  whose  parents  came  from 
Ireland.  The  family  lived  near  the  Cairnes  residence 
and  were  intimate.  They  were  often  seen  together  and 
Poe  wanted  her  to  marry  him  at  once.  She  was  young 
and  told  her  parents,  who,  with  the  Cairnes,  interfered 
and  broke  off  the  affair.  Poe  became  despondent  after 
this  and  went  with  Tuhey  in  a  sailing  vessel  to  the  coast 
of  Wexford,  Ireland,  and  back.  It  was  on  this  trip  that 


MEMOIR  XXXV 

Tuhey  had  seen  Poe's  manuscript,  which  mine  had  re 
called  to  his  memory.  Before  leaving  Baltimore  in  1834, 
Tuhey  said  that  he  often  met  Poe  at  a  house  on  Caro 
line  Street  near  Wilkes,  Fells  Point.  There  Poe  would 
sit  in  silence  for  hours  listening  to  sailor  stories  of  the 
sea,  the  only  interruption  being  now  and  then  a  tune 
from  Tuhey's  musical  flute." 

The  Richmond  court  records  show  that  John  Allan 
was  putting  his  earthly  affairs  in  order,  and  making 
his  will  April  17,  1832.  The  will  was  prepared  by  an 
able  lawyer,  but  Allan  was  so  fearful  that  the  clauses 
troubling  his  conscience  might  not  be  carried  out,  that 
he  rewrote  and  repeated  them  himself  a  second  time  in 
the  will.  It  is  also  said  that  about  this  time  he  occa 
sionally  intimated  a  desire  to  see  Poe,  before  he  died. 
The  supposition  is  that  he  had  made  promises  to  his 
first  wife  concerning  Poe,  which  had  not  been  fulfilled. 
Poe  was  in  communication  with  Miss  Valentine,  sister 
of  the  first  Mrs.  Allan;  also  had  messages  from  the  old 
Allan  servants,  and  in  other  ways  kept  informed  of  what 
was  going  on  in  the  Allan  household. 

An  old  printer  told  me  that  he  carried  letters  for  Poe 
from  Baltimore  to  Richmond  prior  to  1835.  Poe  had 
heard  the  rumor  that  Allan  was  ill  and  wanted  to  see 
him.  He  stated  to  Judge  Hughes  that  with  the  under 
standing  that  Allan  wished  to  see  him,  and  a  view 
of  a  possible  reconciliation,  he  had  gone  to  Richmond 
about  June,  1832.  He  had  no  feeling  against  Mrs. 
Allan,  and  thought  that  all  that  was  necessary  was  to 
go  to  the  old  home,  and,  in  any  event,  find  a  cordial 
reception.  Instead,  he  stated,  Mrs.  Allan  refused  him 
admittance,  and  hindered  a  meeting  between  himself 
and  Mr.  Allan.  He  returned  to  Baltimore  without  seeing 


XXXVI  MEMOIR 

Allan.  The  Richmond  court  records,  in  the  lawsuit  to 
break  the  will  of  the  second  Mrs.  Allan,  say: "  Mrs.  Allan 
was  a  woman  of  vigorous  intellect  and  will,  remark 
able  for  her  self  reliance — a  woman  with  likes  and  dis 
likes  —  attachments  and  resentments  —  loves  and  hates 
—  one  so  self  reliant  and  high  spirited  that  no  one  dared 
approach  her  with  any  testamentary  suggestions." 
John  Allan  died  March  27,  1834.  The  terms  of  his  will 
were  not  agreeable  to  his  wife,  and  she  rejected  them. 
The  second  marriage  of  Allan  took  place  October  5, 
1830;  Mrs.  Allan  died  April  24,  1881. 

Poe  took  up  occasional  newspaper  work  on  his  re 
turn  to  Baltimore.  During  these  years  he  also  wrote 
for  New  York  and  Philadelphia  papers.  The  supposi 
tion  is,  that  in  New  York  he  wrote  for  a  newspaper 
with  which  Major  Noah  was  associated.  In  Philadel 
phia  he  wrote  for  Poulson's  American  Daily  Advertiser 
and  the  Sunday  Mercury. 

In  Baltimore  there  were  also  days  of  love-making 
with  his  cousin  Miss  Herring.  He  read  to  her,  and  wrote 
verses  in  her  album;  and  his  wife  Virginia,  then  a  little 
girl,  carried  the  love  letters.  The  tales  Poe  sent  to  the 
Baltimore  Saturday  Morning  Visiter,  and  his  drama, 
"Politian,"  were  probably  prepared  during  these  years. 
One  of  them,  "Morella,"  was  given  by  Poe  in  Balti 
more  to  a  neighbor,  Mrs.  Samuel  F.  Simmons.  The 
manuscript  had  been  in  the  possession  of  her  daugh 
ter,  living  in  Howard  County,  Maryland,  for  many 
years.  It  was  recently  sold  by  a  New  York  book-auc 
tion  house.  The  manuscript  is  written  in  the  same 
style,  and  corresponds  with  the  introduction  to  "The 
Tales  of  the  Folio  Club,"  as  reproduced  in  facsimile 
in  Professor  G.  E.  Woodberry's  revised  Life  of  Poe.  This 


MEMOIR  XXXVli 

tale,  it  is  claimed,  was  written  by  Poe  some  time  be 
tween  1832  and  1833  in  Baltimore,  while  a  frequent 
/isitor  at  the  Simmons  house. 

On  October  12,  1833,  Poe  was  awarded  fifty  dollars 
for  his  prize  tale,  "  MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle,"  by  the  Bal 
timore  Saturday  Morning  Visiter.  His  poem  "The 
Coliseum  "  was  well  considered,  but  as  he  had  received 
the  largest  prize,  the  next  was  given  to  J.  H.  Hewitt, 
editor  of  the  paper.  It  had  been  the  supposition  that 
Poe  sent  previous  contributions  to  the  Visiter,  which 
proved  correct,  as  his  poem  "Serenade"  appeared 
April  2oth,  after  L.  A.  Wilmer  was  editor.  Hewitt  states 
that  he  wrote  an  unfavorable  criticism  on  Poe's  1829 
volume  in  the  Minerva,  a  Baltimore  publication  he 
edited,  for  which  Poe  assailed  him  on  the  street.  They 
were  not  friendly  while  he  edited  the  Visiter,  but  after 
wards  met  in  Washington  on  good  terms.  Wilmer  and 
Poe  took  long  walks  together  and  were  intimate  in 
Baltimore  and  afterwards  in  Philadelphia.  Hewitt 
also  seems  to  have  been  unfriendly  with  Wilmer,  who. 
he  says,  "measured  poetry  as  he  would  type,  and 
judged  its  quality  as  a  gauger  would  the  proof  of  whis 
key." 

Hewitt  gives  an  intelligent  description  of  Poe's  ap 
pearance  in  the  early  days.  He  said  that  he  knew  Poe 
as  "a  thin,  handsome,  spare  young  man.  He  had  a 
broad  forehead,  a  large  magnificent  eye,  dark  brown  and 
rather  curly  hair;  well  formed,  about  five  feet  seven  in 
height.  He  dressed  neatly  in  his  palmy  days  —  wore 
Byron  collars  and  a  black  neckerchief,  looking  the  poet 
all  over.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  thoughtful, 
melancholy,  and  rather  stern.  In  disposition  he  was 
somewhat  overbearing  and  spiteful.  He  often  vented 


XXXV111  MEMOIR 

his  spleen  on  poor  Dr.  Loffin,  who  styled  himself  the 
'Milford  Bard/  and  who  outstripped  Poe  in  the  quan 
tity  of  his  poetry,  if  not  the  quality.  I  never  saw  him 
under  the  influence  of  drink  or  a  narcotic  but  once, 
and  cannot  endorse  such  stories." 

The  circumstances  indicate  that  Poe  was  about 
the  newspaper  offices  in  Baltimore  at  this  period  and 
acquainted  with  the  literary  characters  of  the  city. 
Among  them  was  J.  P.  Kennedy,  who  introduced  him 
to  Carey  &  Lea  of  Philadelphia.  They  were  given  the 
first  opportunity  to  publish  Poe's  tales,  but  declined 
them.  The  tale  of  "The  Visionary,"  which  was  among 
them,  was  afterwards  published  in  Godey's  Lady's 
Book  for  January,  1834.  He  contributed  tales  to  the 
Southern  Literary  Messenger  of  Richmond,  Virginia,  early 
in  1835.  His  letters  to  the  proprietor  of  that  periodical 
show  that  he  had  sufficient  influence  with  the  Balti 
more  newspapers  to  have  notices  of  the  Messenger  pub 
lished  which  he  wrote  himself.  In  a  notice  of  the  Mes 
senger  in  the  Broadway  Journal  for  March  22,  1845, 
Poe  states:  "At  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  month 
(1835),  one  of  the  present  editors  of  the  Broadway 
Journal  made  an  arrangement  to  edit  the  Messenger, 
and  by  systematic  exertion  on  the  part  of  both  pub 
lisher  and  editor  the  circulation  was  increased  by  the 
end  of  the  subsequent  year  to  nearly  five  thousand  — 
a  success  quite  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  our  five- 
dollar  Magazines.  After  the  secession  of  Mr.  Poe,  Mr. 
White  took  the  editorial  conduct  upon  his  own  shoul 
ders  and  sustained  it  remarkably  well."  Poe  made 
another  attempt  to  have  his  tales  published  by  Harper 
&  Brothers  in  March,  1836. 

On  May  16,  1836,  Poe  was  married  at  Richmond  to 


MEMOIR  XXXIX 

his  cousin  Virginia  Eliza  Clemm,  who  was  not  quite 
fourteen  years  old,  by  Rev.  A.  Converse,  a  Presbyterian 
minister.  A  previous  marriage  license  was  obtained  in 
Baltimore  September  22,  1835.  His  marriage  bond  is 
recorded  in  Richmond.  The  contributions  of  Poe  to 
the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  show  that  he  was  an 
industrious  editor,  although  at  the  start  occasionally 
over-indulging  hi  drink.  J.  W.  Fergusson,  an  appren 
tice  on  the  Messenger,  who  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age,  and 
who  was  afterwards  one  of  the  proprietors,  has  left 
with  me  his  written  recollections  of  Poe.  He  says  that 
"like  others  in  his  day  Poe  was  addicted  to  periodical 
sprees,  but  they  did  not  interfere  to  any  extent  with  his 
writings."  Mr.  Fergusson,  who  visited  the  residence  of 
T.  W.  White,  also  Mrs.  Bernard,  a  daughter  of  White's, 
both  in  a  position  to  know,  stated  that  they  never 
knew  of  any  flirtation  between  Poe  and  Eliza  White, 
as  has  been  intimated.  They  were  never  more  than 
friends.  This  has  also  been  confirmed  by  Mrs.  Clemm. 
In  the  December,  1835,  Messenger,  Poe  in  a  notice  of 
Chief  Justice  Marshall,  whom  he  met  in  the  early  days 
at  church  with  Mrs.  Allan,  spoke  of  him  as:  "Our  great 
and  lamented  countryman,  fellow-townsman,  neighbor, 
and  friend  —  for  by  all  these  names  did  a  fortuitous 
conjuncture  of  circumstances,  including  his  own  kind 
and  prideless  heart,  entitle  us  to  call  him."  While  Poe 
labored  at  the  editorial  desk  of  the  Messenger,  White 
the  proprietor  travelled  about  Virginia  for  subscrip 
tions.  The  list  of  subscribers  increased,  but  likewise 
the  expense  account.  Poe  was  ambitious,  and  thought 
that  he  was  entitled  to  more  salary,  or  a  proprietary 
interest  in  the  journal,  but  White  did  not  feel  inclined 
to  offer  either.  Poe  was  also  becoming  very  solicitous 


xl  MEMOIR 

for  the  publication  of  his  tales,  and  anxious  to  be  nearer 
the  larger  publication  houses. 

After  the  Harpers  returned  the  manuscript  of  his 
tales  he  began  a  correspondence  with  Saunders  &  Otley 
of  New  York.1  They  read  his  manuscript  and  seemed 
disposed  to  become  his  publishers  here  and  in  England, 
but  at  the  moment  could  not  take  upon  themselves  to 
decide  for  their  paternal  house  abroad.  They  were 
also  anxious  to  have  the  finished  manuscript  of  the 
tales  in  order  to  send  out  by  the  next  packet.  Poe  sent 
his  friend  Edward  W.  Johnson  of  the  South  Carolina 
College,  who  was  in  New  York,  to  see  the  firm.  His 
letter  of  October  4,  1836,  stated  that  he  had  informed 
the  firm  "that  the  writing  of  the  tales  in  their  final 
form  had  yet  made  too  little  progress  to  render  so 
speedy  a  transmission  of  the  copy  possible,  and  that 
as  the  months  of  November  and  December  are  the 
most  advantageous  in  European  publication  they  had 
better  send  back  the  MS.  in  their  hands,  which  may 
be  found  important  in  the  rapid  finishing  of  the  work. 
This  the  firm  promised  to  do  at  once  through  Smith 
the  bookseller,  or  the  regular  mode  of  conveyance." 
Johnson  advised  Poe  to  send  back  the  finished  MS. 
with  all  possible  expedition,  in  time  for  one  of  the 
earliest  packets.  This  matter  is  important  as  showing 
that  at  so  late  a  date  Poe's  tales  in  hand  were  far  from 
being  considered  finished  or  complete. 

At  this  time  Poe  was  in  correspondence  with  Dr. 
F.  L.  Hawks,  who  held  out  some  prospects  for  employ 
ment  on  the  New  York  Review,  to  which  Poe  after 
wards  made  one  contribution.2 

1  MS.  from  Poe's  Southern  Literary  Messenger  desk. 
1  I  have  copies  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  from  the 
Hawks  library  with  the  address  in  Poe's  autograph. 


MEMOIR  xli 

Poe  seceded  from  the  Messenger  in  January,  1837, 
and  went  to  New  York.  Here  the  financial  panic  of 
the  time  changed  his  plans.  The  family  were  com 
pelled  to  take  boarders,  and  Poe  eked  out  a  living 
doing  literary  hack  work.  In  the  American  Monthly 
Magazine  for  June,  1837,  he  published  the  tale  "Mystifi 
cation,"  as  "Von  Jung,  the  Mystific."  He  completed  his 
tale,  begun  in  the  Messenger,  the  "  Narrative  of  Arthur 
Gordon  Pym,"  which  the  Harpers  published  in  July, 
1838,  but  it  brought  him  no  financial  help.  He  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  an  English  writer  of  juvenile 
books,  James  Pedder,  who  interested  himself  in  his 
welfare  and  arranged  for  the  family  to  go  to  Philadel 
phia.  Pedder  edited  the  Farmer's  Cabinet  of  Philadel 
phia,  in  the  making  up  of  which  Poe  is  thought  to  have 
rendered  some  assistance.  It  is  stated  that  the  family 
resided  with  the  Pedders  for  a  brief  period.  That  Poe 
felt  grateful  to  them  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  one 
of  the  first  copies  of  his  Tales  of  the  Grotesque  and 
Arabesque  from  the  press  of  Lea  &  Blanchard,  Phila 
delphia,  1840,  was  given  to  the  "Misses  Pedders  with 
his  grateful  acknowledgments."  The  volumes  were  re 
cently  sold  at  a  book-auction  sale.  It  is  also  stated 
that  Pedder  arranged  with  Poe  to  get  out  The  Con- 
otologist's  First  Book  ;  or,  a  System  of  Testaceous  Mala 
cology,  published  by  Haswell,  Barrington  &  Haswell, 
Philadelphia,  1839.  It  was  charged  that  this  was  largely 
a  reprint  of  Captain  Thomas  Brown's  Conchology,  which 
Poe  denied.  A  second  edition,  with  a  new  preface,  ad 
ditions,  and  alterations,  was  issued  by  Poe  in  1840, 
and  a  third,  without  his  name  on  the  title-page,  in 
1845.  In  his  criticisms  in  the  Messenger  Poe  shows  early 
knowledge  on  this  subject.  The  Baltimore  Museum 


Xlii  MEMOIR 

for  September,  1838,  contained  "Ligeia,"  followed  by 
"How  to  Write  a  Blackwood  Article  (The  Signora 
Psyche  Zenobia)"  and  "A  Predicament  (The  Scythe 
of  Time),"  in  December;  "Literary  Small  Talk,"  in 
January  and  February,  and  the  poem  "The  Haunted 
Palace"  in  April.  The  Baltimore  Book  for  1839  printed 
"Siope  (Silence)."  "The  Devil  in  the  Belfry"  ap 
peared  in  the  Philadelphia  Saturday  Evening  Chronicle 
and  Mirror  of  the  Times,  May  8.  He  had  also  contrib 
uted  one  short  article  to  the  Pittsburg  Literary  Ex 
aminer  and  Western  Monthly  Review. 

In  July,  1839,  Poe  began  to  edit  Burton's  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  and  to  this  magazine  he  contributed  many 
of  his  writings,  including  "The  Journal  of  Julius  Rod 
man."  He  made  numerous  compilations  of  various 
articles,  Field  sports,  and  published  "The  Philosophy  of 
Furniture."  As  was  his  habit  in  making  up  "Margina 
lia  "  for  the  Messenger,  he  arranged  matter  here  under 
the  heading: 

"OMNIANA. 

Every  thing  by  starts,  but  nothing  long. 

Dryden. 

various;  that  the  mind 
Of  desultory  man,  studious  of  change, 
And  pleased  with  novelty,  may  be  indulged. 

Cowper." 

His  correspondence  with  Dr.  J.  E.  Snodgrass  while 
editing  the  magazine  gives  an  intimate  view  of  his  life 
for  this  period.  The  Philadelphia  Saturday  Evening 
Chronicle  and  Mirror  of  the  Times,  June  13,  1840,  an 
nounced  that  Poe  would  publish,  the  following  January, 
a  new  magazine,  —  The  Penn  Magazine.  His  illness  was 
mentioned  as  the  reason  for  the  postponement  of  this 
publication  until  March,  1841, 


'  MEMOIR  xliii 

In  the  December  Casket  Poe  published  "The  Man 
of  the  Crowd."  The  Saturday  Evening  Post,  February 
20, 1841,  announced  that  on  account  of  the  disturbance 
in  money  matters  The  Penn  Magazine  would  not  be 
published,  but  that  Poe  would  assume  the  editorial 
chair  of  Graham's  Magazine,  which  he  did  in  April.  He 
however  continued  to  cherish  hopes  of  getting  out  his 
Penn  Magazine,  which  he  considered  "  only  scotched, 
not  killed."  He  gave  much  earnest  work  to  Graham's, 
and  contributed  to  the  magazine  some  of  his  best  writ 
ings.  He  wrote  on  the  subject  of  cryptography,  which 
attracted  attention,  and  began  to  show  his  analytical 
powers.  In  a  letter  from  F.  W.  Thomas  in  May,  1841, 
some  possibilities  of  a  government  position  at  a  good 
Salary,  with  leisure  for  literary  labors,  was  hinted  to 
Poe.  The  idea  haunted  him  for  several  years,  but  no 
thing  ever  materialized. 

In  August,  1841,  Poe  made  a  proposition  to  Lea  & 
Blanchard  to  publish  a-  second  edition  of  his  tales  of 
1840,  which  they  rejected.  Poe  resigned  from  Gra 
ham's  Magazine  in  May,  1842,  and  was  succeeded  by 
R.  W.  Griswold. 

F.  W.  Thomas  states:  "I  met  Poe  in  Philadelphia 
during  September,  1842.  He  lived  in  a  rural  home  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  city.  His  house  was  small,  but 
comfortable  inside  for  one  of  the  kind.  The  rooms 
looked  neat  and  orderly,  but  everything  about  the 
place  wore  an  air  of  pecuniary  want.  Although  I  ar 
rived  late  in  the  morning  Mrs.  Clemm,  Poe's  mother- 
in-law,  was  busy  preparing  for  his  breakfast.  My  pres 
ence  possibly  caused  some  confusion,  but  I  noticed 
that  there  was  delay  and  evident  difficulty  in  procuring 
the  meal.  His  wife  entertained  me.  Her  manners  were 


xllV  MEMOIR 

agreeable  and  graceful.  She  had  well  formed,  regular 
features,  with  the  most  expressive  and  intelligent  eyes 
I  ever  beheld.  Her  pale  complexion,  the  deep  lines  in 
her  face  and  a  consumptive  cough  made  me  regard 
her  as  the  victim  for  an  early  grave.  She  and  her 
mother  showed  much  concern  about  Eddie,  as  they 
called  Poe,  and  were  anxious  to  have  him  secure  work. 
I  afterwards  learned  from  Poe  that  he  had  been  to 
New  York  in  search  of  employment  and  had  also  made 
effort  to  get  out  an  edition  of  his  tales,  but  was  unsuc 
cessful. 

"  When  Poe  appeared  his  dark  hair  hung  carelessly 
over  his  high  forehead,  and  his  dress  was  a  little  slovenly. 
He  met  me  cordially,  but  was  reserved,  and  complained 
of  feeling  unwell.  His  pathetic  tenderness  and  loving 
manners  towards  his  wife  greatly  impressed  me.  I  was 
not  long  in  observing  with  deep  regret  that  he  had 
fallen  again  into  habits  of  intemperance.  I  ventured  to 
remonstrate  with  him.  He  admitted  yielding  to  temp 
tation  to  drink  while  in  New  York  and  turned  the  sub 
ject  off  by  telling  an  amusing  dialogue  of  Lucian,  the 
Greek  writer.  We  visited  the  city  together  and  had  an 
engagement  for  the  following  day.  I  left  him  sober, 
but  he  did  not  keep  the  engagement  and  wrote  me  that 
he  was  ill." 

There  are  more  pleasant  reminiscences  of  his  home 
life  in  Philadelphia  recorded  than  this.  While  he  edited 
Graham's  Magazine  the  family  exercised  a  simple  hos 
pitality.  They  entertained  guests,  had  sufficient  means 
to  live  upon,  and  Poe  was  temperate  in  his  habits.  His 
wife  ruptured  a  blood  vessel  later  on;  he  gave  up  his 
position,  and  has  told  in  his  letters  how  during  this 
period  he  had  recourse  to  drink  to  drown  his  sorrows. 


MEMOIR  xlv 

Poe  had  several  interviews  with  Charles  Dickens  in 
Philadelphia,  and  at  this  time  corresponded  with 
Thomas  Holley  Chivers,  James  Russell  Lowell,  and 
John  Tomlin. 

After  the  turn  of  1843,  P°e  became  closely  associated 
with  the  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum.  In  this  paper 
he  published  a  severe  criticism  on  Griswold's  Poets 
and  Poetry  of  America,  for  which  it  is  said  Griswold 
never  forgave  him.  F.  W.  Thomas  states:  "Poe  kept  up 
a  continuous  warfare  upon  Griswold  in  the  Museum, 
poking  fun  at  him,  and  alluding  to  him  as  Mr.  Driswold 
of  Graham's  Magazine,  in  childish  humor." 

In  a  letter  to  Lowell  in  March,  1843,  Poe  stated  that 
he  was  not  editing  the  Museum,  although  an  announce 
ment  was  prematurely  made  to  that  effect.  This  has 
never  been  clearly  understood,  as  no  file  of  the  Museum 
can  be  found.  F.  W.  Thomas  states  that  the  Museum  an 
nounced:  "We  have  secured  at  a  high  salary  the  services 
of  E.  A.  Poe,  Esq.,  a  gentleman  whose  high  and  versatile 
abilities  have  always  spoken  for  themselves,  and  who 
after  the  first  of  May  will  aid  us  in  the  editorial  conduct 
of  the  journal."  In  a  letter  written  to  Thomas  by  Poe, 
February  25,  1843,  it  is  stated  that  a  copy  of  the  Mu 
seum  containing  his  Biography  was  also  forwarded. 
As  the  only  copy  of  this  Biography  known,  presumed  to 
have  been  Poe's  own,  and  made  up  of  pasted  clippings, 
is  of  March  4, 1843,  &  nas  puzzled  Poe's  editors  to  under 
stand  how  Poe  sent  a  copy  of  the  paper  of  a  week  earlier, 
as  the  letter  indicated. 

Mr.  Thomas  states  that  the  biography  of  Poe  in  the 
Museum  had  a  second  edition,  which  that  paper  an 
nounced  as  follows:  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Times  of  Friday 
says/  The  Saturday  Museum  of  this  week  contains  a  very 


xlvi  MEMOIR 

fair  likeness  of  our  friend  Edgar  A.  Poe,  Esq.,  with  a 
full  account  of  his  truly  eventful  life.  We  look  upon 
Mr.  Poe  as  one  of  the  most  powerful,  chaste,  and  erudite 
writers  of  the  day,  and  it  gives  us  pleasure  to  see  him 
placed  through  the  public  press  in  his  proper  position 
before  the  world.' 

"  We  are  glad  to  hear  so  good  a  paper  as  the  Times 
speak  thus  highly  of  Mr.  Poe,  not  only  from  the  justice 
which  it  renders  that  powerful  writer,  but  because  we 
have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  secure  his  services  as  asso 
ciate  editor  of  the  Saturday  Museum,  where  we  intend 
it  shall  be  placed  beyond  the  reach  of  competition.  So 
great  was  the  interest  excited  by  the  biography  and 
poems  of  Mr.  Poe  published  in  the  Museum  of  last  week, 
that  to  supply  those  who  were  disappointed  in  obtaining 
copies  we  shall  be  at  the  expense  of  an  extra  edition, 
which  will  be  printed  with  corrections  and  additions. 
Of  this  extra  we  shall  publish  an  edition  on  fine  white 
paper.  It  will  be  ready  for  delivery  at  the  office  Satur 
day  morning." 

In  a  later  Museum  sent  to  Thomas  by  Poe  it  was 
stated  under  the  heading,  "Quick  Perception":  "We 
have  published  in  the  biographical  sketch  of  Mr.  Poe 
some  evidences  of  the  wonderful  power  which  his  mind 
possesses  in  deciphering  the  most  complicated  and  diffi 
cult  questions.  We  have  another  striking  instance  of 
the  exercise  of  this  power.  The  Spirit  of  the  Times 
copied  the  following  puzzle  a  few  days  since.  A  Nice 
Puzzle.  The  Baltimore  Sun  gives  the  following  oddity 
and  asks  for  its  solution.  [Here  follows  an  array  of  mixed 
words  and  letters.]  The  moment  it  met  our  eye  hap 
pening  to  be  in  company  with  Mr.  Poe  we  pointed  out 
the  article,  when  he  immediately  gave  us  the  solution." 


MEMOIR  xlvil 

The  prospectus  of  the  Stylus,  another  magazine, 
was  issued  through  the  columns  of  the  Museum.  With 
a  view  of  securing  subscribers  to  the  magazine,  and  with 
some  hopes  of  hearing  something  further  about  the 
government  position,  Poe  went  to  Washington  in  March, 
1843.  F.  W.  Thomas  states:  "Poe  sent  me  the  notes 
for  the  Museum  biography,  but  I  evaded  writing  them. 
I  told  him  afterwards  that  I  knew  more  of  his  history 
than  he  had  sent  me.  He  was  amused,  and  laughed  the 
matter  off  by  confessing  that  the  story  was  intended  to 
help  the  magazine  project.  I  was  confined  to  my  room 
by  sickness  when  Poe  came  to  Washington  early  in 
1843.  He  was  sober  when  I  saw  him,  but  afterward  in 
the  company  of  old  friends  he  drank  to  excess.  My 
physician  attended  him  for  several  days,  and  he  suffered 
much  from  his  indiscretion."  Poe  wrote  a  letter  March 
1 6,  1843,  tnat  he  arrived  home  in  Philadelphia  "in 
safety  and  sober."  In  June  he  won  the  hundred-dollar 
prize  with  his  tale  "The  Gold-Bug"  from  the  Dollar 
Newspaper.  He  asked  Griswold  to  send  him  five  dollars 
and  to  come  to  see  him  June  n,  as  stated  in  Griswold's 
memoir.  With  a  view  of  raising  funds  he  contemplated 
the  publication  of  his  tales  in  serial  form,  but  only 
one  number  was  issued. 

This  was  published  about  the  last  of  August,  1843,  — 
"The  Prose  Romances  of  Edgar  A.  Poe.  No.  i.  The 
Murders  of  the  Rue  Morgue  and  The  Man  that  was 
Used  Up,  1843.  Philadelphia:  Published  by  William 
H.  Graham."  Poe  sent  a  notice  of  this  to  a  New  York 
magazine  early  in  September,  with  the  latter  tale  in 
cluded.  It  was  about  this  time  that  he  made  an  at 
tempt  upon  the  lecture  platform,  which  proved  a  fail 
ure.  After  Griswold  withdrew  from  Graham's,  Poe 


xlviii  MEMOIR 

began  to  contribute  to  the  critical  department.  He  had 
a  review  of  "Orion "  in  the  March,  1844,  number,  and 
after  that  had  a  correspondence  with  the  author  R.  H. 
Home,  to  whom  he  sent  his  tale  "  The  Spectacles " 
with  a  view  of  publication  in  England. 

Poe  went  to  New  York  early  in  April,  1844.  On  his 
arrival  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Clemm  a  letter  dated  "April  7, 
(just  after  breakfast),"  which  shows  interesting  charac 
teristics  of  his  domestic  life.  In  this  letter  he  mentions 
the  "Duane"  Southern  Literary  Messengers.  He  used 
them  in  preparing  his  tales  of  1840.  I  found  the  volumes 
some  years  ago  in  an  old  Boston  second-hand  book-shop. 
His  "Balloon  Hoax"  appeared  in  the  New  York  Sun 
April  13,  1844.  He  corresponded  with  Lowell  in  May 
regarding  the  writing  of  his  biography  for  Graham's. 
In  June  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Charles  Anthon  asking  his 
influence  to  induce  the  Harpers  to  publish  his  tales  in 
five  volumes.  This  matter  was  delayed  until  the  fall,  and 
Anthon  replied  that  he  was  unable  to  assist  him.  The 
Columbian  Magazine  for  August  had  a  paper  by  Poe 
on  "Mesmeric  Revelation."  Shortly  afterwards  he  was 
engaged  as  an  assistant  by  N.  P.  Willis,  who  was  con* 
verting  the  New  Mirror  into  a  daily,  the  Evening  Mirror. 
He  had  been  contributing  to  Godey's,  Graham's,  and 
the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  and  Democratic  Review, 

"  The  Raven  "  first  appeared  in  the  Evening  Mirror  of 
January  29,  1845.  F.  W.  Thomas  says:  "Poe  stated 
that  '  The  Raven '  was  written  in  a  day.  The  idea  of 
having  it  appear  anonymously  was  a  whim  of  his,  like 
Coleridge's  publication  of  his 'Raven.'  He  afterwards 
thought  it  a  mistake,  and  conceived  the  idea  of  having 
it  introduced  in  Willis's  paper  with  his  name.  Poe  read 
all  the  older  English  poets  with  fondness,  and  his  name 


MEMOIR  xlix 

of  Quarles  merely  had  reference  in  his  mind  to  the  old 
English  poet."  It  has  been  stated  that  "The  Raven" 
was  printed  from  advance  sheets  of  the  American  Whig 
Review,  which  may  have  been  the  case,  but  in  such 
an  event  Poe  handled  the  proof  and  made  corrections. 
The  two  publications  show  a  number  of  deviations. 
On  May  4,  1845,  Poe  wrote  F.  W.  Thomas  that  "The 
Raven"  was  copied  into  the  Broadway  Journal  by 
Briggs,  his  associate,  before  he  joined  the  paper.  Poe 
had  some  idea  of  having  his  poems  published  by  Clarke 
of  London,  which  were  to  be  introduced  by  Griswold. 
He  made  an  announcement  in  the  Mirror  of  February 
15,  1845,  that  the  poems  would  shortly  appear  in  the 
series,  with  other  American  poets.  The  sketch  of  Poe 
written  by  Lowell,  with  a  portrait,  appeared  in  the  Feb 
ruary  Graham's  Magazine,  On  February  28  Poe  lec 
tured  in  New  York  on  the  subject  of  "American  Po 
etry."  He  resigned  from  the  Mirror  March  8,  and  in  the 
issue  of  that  journal  for  the  same  date  appeared  the 
answer  to  Poe's  Longfellow  criticisms  signed,  "Outis." 
On  this  date  C.  F.  Briggs  also  wrote  in  a  letter  that  Poe 
was  his  assistant  on  the  Broadway  Journal.  The  South 
ern  Literary  Messenger  for  April,  1845,  announced: 
"Literary  Criticisms:  E.  A.  Poe,  Esq.  We  have  engaged 
the  services  of  Mr.  Poe;  who  will  contribute  monthly  a 
critique  raisonnee  of  the  most  important  forthcoming 
works  in  this  Country  and  in  Europe."  Poe  had  con 
tributed  "The  Raven"  in  a  revised  form  to  the  Mes 
senger  in  March.  B.  B.  Minor,  editor  of  the  Messenger, 
stated  to  me  that  he  had  an  arrangement  with  John 
Biscoe,  publisher  of  the  Broadway  Journal,  to  take  sub 
scriptions  in  New  York;  that  there  had  been  some  dis 
pute  about  the  amount  due  Poe  by  the  Messenger,  and 


1  MEMOIR 

Biscoe  paid  Poe  without  authority,  never  making  the 
Messenger  any  returns.  Poe  did  not  contribute  to  the 
Messenger  again  until  J.  R.  Thompson  became  editor. 
The  Mirror  of  July  19,  1845,  8ave  seven  entire  pages 
to  an  event  in  New  York  City,  which  must  have  been 
considered  of  importance,  in  which  Poe  figured  promi 
nently.  He  had  at  some  time  previously  had  a  disagree 
ment  with  H.  T.  Tuckerman,  but  they  met  again  on 
this  occasion  and  renewed  their  friendship.1  It  was  the 
commencement  exercises  of  Rutgers  Female  Institute, 
which  took  place  July  n,  when  the  Rutgers  Street 
Church  was  crowded.  The  committee  on  the  composi 
tion  of  the  First  Department  consisted  of  Edgar  A.  Poe, 
Chairman,  W.  D.  Snodgrass,  and  Henry  T.  Tuckerman. 
The  first  award  in  poetry  was  given  to  a  poem,  of  a  little 
over  one  hundred  lines,  beginning,  — 

"  Deep  in  a  glade  by  trees  o'erhung." 

This  poem  was  afterwards  read  to  the  audience  by 
Poe.  On  the  stage  with  Poe  were  Professor  Tellkampf , 
Professor  Lewis,  Professor  Elias  Loomis,  Dr.  J.  W. 
Francis,  and  other  men  of  eminence.  His  "  Tales"  (By 
Edgar  A.  Poe.  New  York:  Wiley  &  Putnam.  1845) 
were  published  the  latter  part  of  June. 

In  the  Broadway  Journal  of  October  n,  in  answer 
to  some  comments  by  Willis  regarding  the  Tales,  Poe 
replied  "that  he  was  not  preparing  another  edition 
for  England;  that  his  '  Tales '  had  been  reproduced  in 
England  —  long  ago,  but  he  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  reproduction;  that  if  he  was  to  issue  another  edition, 

1  Mentioned  in  a  letter  of  Charles  Fenno  Hoffman  to  Griswold, 
July  ii,  1845 :  Passages  from  the  Correspondence  and  other  Papers 
of  R.  W-  Griswold  (Cambridge,  Mass.,  1898),  p.  186. 


MEMOIR  il 

instead  of  '  Tales '  he  would  style  them  'The  Gold-Bug 
and  Other  Tales.' "  Poe's  habit  of  apologizing  for  errors 
committed  was  not  confined  to  his  letters.  In  the 
Broadway  Journal  for  August  30,  1845,  ne  wrote:  "We 
thank  the  New- York  correspondent  of  the  Cincinnati 
Gazette  for  the  gentlemanly  tone  of  his  reply  to  some 
late  pettish  comments  of  our  own.  We  saw  only  a  por 
tion  of  one  of  his  letters.  Had  we  seen  more,  we  should 
at  once,  through  the  precision  and  purity  of  his  style, 
have  recognized  a  friend."  R.  H.  Stoddard,  one  of  Poe's 
later  biographers,  sent  a  poem,  "The  Grecian  Flute,"  to 
the  Broadway  Journal.  In  the  issue  of  July  26,  Poe  stated: 
"We"  fear  we  have  mislaid  the  poem,"  and  August  2: 
"We  doubt  the  originality  of  'The  Grecian  Flute'  for 
the  reason  that  it  is  too  good  at  some  points  to  be  so 
bad  at  others.  Unless  the  author  can  reassure  us  we 
decline  it."  This  is  not  in  full  accord  with  statements 
of  the  affair  afterwards  published  by  Stoddard,  who  also 
failed  to  tell  that  on  another  occasion  he  wrote  to  Poe  for 
his  autograph.  On  October  16,  Poe  read  his  boyish  poem, 
"Al  Aaraaf,"  before  the  Boston  Lyceum,  which  inci 
dent  provoked  much  comment  and  criticism  at  the  time. 
In  the  Broadway  Journal  Poe  revised  and  published 
most  of  his  tales  and  poems.  His  romantic  acquaintance 
with  Mrs.  Frances  Sargent  Osgood  began  while  he 
edited  this  journal.  He  had  eulogized  her  in  his  New 
York  lecture  and  sent  her  by  Willis  a  copy  of  "The 
Raven,"  with  a  desire  for  her  opinion  and  a  personal  in 
troduction.  A  few  days  after  this  he  called  at  the  Astor 
House  with  Willis  to  meet  her.  In  a  letter  written  to 
Griswold  she  said:  "I  shall  never  forget  the  morning 
when  I  was  summoned  to  the  drawing  room  by  Mr. 
Willis  to  receive  him.  With  his  proud  and  beautiful 


lli  MEMOIR 

head  erect,  his  dark  eyes  flashing  with  the  electric  light 
of  feeling  and  of  thought,  a  peculiar,  an  inimitable 
blending  of  sweetness  and  hauteur  in  his  manner,  he 
greeted  me,  calmly,  gravely,  almost  coldly,  yet  with  so 
marked  an  earnestness  that  I  could  not  help  being 
deeply  impressed  by  it.  From  that  moment  until  his 
death  we  were  friends;  although  we  met  only  during 
the  first  year  of  our  acquaintance." 

Previous  biographies  of  Poe  state  that  Mrs.  Osgood 
sent  some  lines  in  the  character  of  "Israfel"  addressed 
to  Poe,  which  appeared  in  the  Broadway  Journal  April 
5,  1845,  to  which  he  responded,  April  26,  with  his  lines 

"To  F ,"  and  signed  "E."  The  "Israfel"  verses  by 

Mrs.  Osgood  did  not  appear  in  the  Broadway  Journal 
until  November  29.  In  that  journal's  issue  of  April  5 
is  printed  a  poem,  "The  Rivulet's  Dream  "  (From  the 
German  of  Somebody),  signed  Kate  Carol,  preceded  by 
a  Poe  note  stating:  "We  might  guess  who  is  the  fair 
author  of  the  following  lines,  which  have  been  sent  us 
in  a  MS.,  evidently  disguised  —  but  we  are  not  satisfied 
with  guessing  and  would  give  the  world  to  know."  In 
the  following  week's  issue  appeared  a  poem  signed  by 
Mrs.  Osgood,  —  "Love's  Reply,"  concluding  "write 
from  your  heart  to  me"  She  used  the  pseudonym  of 
"Kate  Carol,"  and  also  included  this  poem  of  "The 
Rivulet's  Dream"  in  her  later  publications.  Poe  pub 
lished,  April  26,  his  lines  "To  F ,"  signed  "E.," 

conjecturally  to  Mrs.  Osgood.  In  the  Editorial  Mis 
cellany  of  the  same  number  Poe  printed  "Impromptu. 

To  Kate  Carol." 

"When  from  your  gems  of  thought  I  turn 
To  those  pure  orbs,  your  heart  to  Jearn, 
I  scarce  know  which  to  prize  most  high  — 
The  bright  i-dea,  or  bright  dear-eye." 


MEMOIR  liii 

On  May  31  is  published  a  poem,  "Lenore,"  signed 
"Clarice,"  which  Poe  attributed  to  Mrs.  Osgood 
December  13.  This  was  followed  by  a  signed  poem  by 
Mrs.  Osgood,  August  30,  "Slander,"  referring  to  the 
"breaking  of  somebody's  heart."  She  sent  another 
poem,  September  6,  "Echo  Song,"  commencing, — 

"I  know  a  noble  heart  that  beats 
For  one  it  loves  how  'wildly  well! '" 

It  was  to  this  that  Poe  evidently  responded,  Septem 
ber  13,  with  his  short  lines  "To  F ,"  afterwards  ad 
dressed  in  his  poems  of  1845  "To  F s  S.  0 d." 

She  wrote  again  November  22,  with  lines  beginning,  — 

"0!  they  never  can  know  that  heart  of  thine, 
Who  dare  accuse  thee  of  flirtation!" 

The  following  week's  issue  contained  her  "Israfel" 
verses.  Her  contributions  after  this  take  a  more  serious 
turn.  On  December  13  she  has  "A  Shipwreck,"  followed 
in  the  next  by  some  scolding  verses  commencing,  — 

"Though  friends  had  warned  me  all  the  while, 

And  blamed  my  willing  blindness, 
I  did  not  once  mistrust  your  smiles, 
Or  doubt  your  tones  of  kindness. 

"I  sought  you  not  —  you  came  to  me  — 

With  words  of  friendly  greeting: 
Alas!  how  different  now  I  see 
That  ill-starred  moment's  meeting." 

These  were  her  last  verses  in  the  Broadway  Journal, 
but  she  sent  some  lines  to  the  Metropolitan  about  Poe 
in  January,  1849,  and  published  others,  in  her  volume 
of  poems,  prior  to  her  death. 

The  Broadway  Journal  also  contains  contributions 


llV  MEMOIR 

from  Anne  C.  Lynch,  Mary  E.  Hewett,  Mary  L.  Law- 
son,  and  Elizabeth  Fries  Ellet. 

Poe  afterwards  met  Mrs.  Osgood  at  the  weekly  re 
ceptions  of  Anne  Charlotte  Lynch  in  Waverley  Place, 
and  his  lines  "A  Valentine"  were  addressed  to  her. 
She  has  intimated  that  her  influence  over  Poe  was  for 
his  good,  and  that  she  corresponded  with  him  at  his 
wife's  request.  Mrs.  E.  F.  Ellet  while  visiting  the  Poe 
home  saw  one  of  these  letters  couched  in  rather  endear 
ing  terms.  She  consulted  with  Mrs.  Osgood  and  some 
of  her  friends,  and  a  committee  of  Margaret  Fuller  and 
one  other  was  deputized  to  recall  all  her  letters.  Poe 
was  surprised  when  they  called  and  stated  their  errand, 
and  in  the  flush  of  excitement  remarked  that  "Mrs. 
Ellet  should  look  after  her  own  letters,"  which  only 
added  fuel  to  the  flame  of  scandal.  Mrs.  Ellet's  brother 
demanded  her  letters  from  Poe,  who  in  the  mean  time 
had  left  them  at  her  door.  Mrs.  Osgood  was  on  her 
deathbed  when  she  wrote  Griswold:  "I  think  no  one 
could  know  him  —  no  one  has  known  him  personally  — 
certainly  no  woman  —  without  feeling  the  same  inter 
est.  I  can  sincerely  say  that,  although  I  have  fre 
quently  heard  of  aberrations  on  his  part  from  'the 
straight  and  narrow  path,'  I  have  never  seen  him  other 
wise  than  gentle,  generous,  well  bred,  and  fastidiously 
refined.  To  a  sensitive  and  delicately-nurtured  woman 
there  was  a  peculiar  and  irresistible  charm  in  the  chival- 
ric,  graceful,  and  almost  tender  reverence  with  which  he 
invariably  approached  all  women  who  won  his  respect. 
It  was  this  that  first  commanded  and  always  retained 
my  regard  for  him." 

From  October,  when  Poe  borrowed  fifty  dollars  from 
Horace  Greeley  on  a  promissory  note,  with  which  to 


MEMOIR  IV 

purchase  the  full  control  of  the  Broadway  Journal,  he 
had  a  hard  struggle  to  sustain  the  paper.  He  was  har 
assed  for  ready  funds,  and  compelled  to  discontinue 
December  26,  1845.  About  this  time  his  volume  of 
poems,  The  Raven  and  Other  Poems,  was  issued. 
During  the  latter  part  of  this  year  he  also  worked  get 
ting  out  books,  among  them  The  Literary  Emporium 
and  the  third  edition  of  his  Conchologist's  First 
Book.  At  the  turn  of  the  year  1846,  Poe  had  little 
in  sight  to  cheer  him,  except  his  literary  reputation. 
The  publication  of  "The  Raven,"  his  connection  with 
the  Broadway  Journal,  followed  by  the  publication  of 
the  two  volumes  of  his  writings,  had  made  him  much 
sought  after  in  certain  social  and  literary  circles  of 
New  York.  He  was  for  a  time  a  literary  lion.  At  an 
earlier  period  in  his  career  he  wrote  in  the  Messenger 
how  he  arrived  at  a  "Lionship,"  by  his  attention  to 
"  Nosology."  Then  his  experiences  were  published  as 
"  Some  Passages  in  the  Life  of  a  Lion."  He  had  not 
forgotten  this,  and  being  in  need  of  funds,  as  one  of  his 
recent  biographers  has  facetiously  implied,  he  began  to 
"make  copy  out  of  his  friends."  "The  Literati  of  New 
York"  was  published  in  Godey's  Lady's  Book  from  May 
to  October,  attracting  much  attention  and  comment. 
In  the  introduction  Poe  stated:  "My  design  is,  in  giving 
my  unbiased  opinion  of  the  literati  (male  and  female) 
of  New  York,  to  give  at  the  same  time  very  closely,  if 
not  with  absolute  accuracy,  that  of  conversational  so 
ciety  in  literary  circles.  It  must  be  expected,  of  course, 
that,  in  innumerable  particulars,  I  shall  differ  from  the 
voice,  that  is  to  say,  what  appears  to  be  the  voice,  of 
the  public;  but  this  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence  what 
ever."  The  papers  numbered  thirty-eight  and  were 


Wi  MEMOIR 

thought  to  complete  the  series.  Another  number  not 
mentioned  by  Poe's  editors  appeared  in  the  Democratic 
Review  for  August,  1848,  on  S.  Anna  Lewis.  The  criti 
cisms  made  while  the  papers  were  being  published  in 
Godey's  apparently  caused  Poe  to  be  cautious.  An  ex 
amination  of  the  original  manuscript  he  sent  to  Godey'l 
shows  that  he  made  many  changes  in  his  proofs.  In 
some  instances  entire  pages  are  erased  and  omitted  from 
the  printed  text.  The  passages  struck  out  have  mainly 
an  irreligious  tone. 

An  installment  of "  Marginalia  "  printed  in  the  Demo 
cratic  Review  for  July,  1846,  has  also  been  overlooked 
by  most  of  Poe's  editors.  This  deals  with  a  French 
translation  of  Lady  Morgan's  Letters  on  Italy  ;  Decline 
of  the  Drama;  The  Alphadelphia  Tocsin;  Simms's 
Areytos ;  Goethe's  Sorrows  of  Werther,  and  Cranch's 
poems.  In  view  of  the  discussion  as  to  Poe's  know 
ledge  of  German,  it  is  of  interest  that  in  his  notice  of 
the  Sorrows  of  Werther,  he  said  :  "The  title  is  mistrans 
lated  : — Lieden  does  not  mean  Sorrows,  but  Sufferings"  * 

While  Poe  sent  occasional  contributions  to  other 
magazines,  his  main  source  of  revenue  at  this  period 
was  Godey's.  The  number  of  drafts  drawn  on  Godey's 
by  Poe,  which  now  turn  up  as  autographic  mementoes 
of  the  poet,  indicate  that  he  drew  his  pay  punctually. 
In  Griswold's  volume  of  The  Literati,  1850,  appears  an 
interesting  Poe  notice  of  Henry  B.  Hirst.  It  contains 
lines  quoted  from  both  "Lenore"  and  "Ulalume."  Tha 
text  of  this  has  eluded  search  until  recently,  when  th« 
manuscript  was  called  to  my  attention  among  the  pa« 
pers  of  the  late  E.  C.  Stedman.  It  had  been  sent  to 
Graham's  Magazine,  but  was  not  published. 

1  Poe's  spelling  of  "Leiden"  is  incorrect.  He  also  has  "Wer- 
ter"  for  Werther. 


MEMOIR  Ivil 

Miss  Sarah  F.  Miller,  long  a  resident  of  the  Bronx, 
New  York,  gives  the  following  recollections  of  the  Poe 
family  at  this  time:  — 

"One  of  the  most  cherished  memories  of  my  earliest 
childhood  is  the  recollection  of  having  often  seen  Edgar 
Allan  Poe.  When  I  was  a  little  girl  we  lived  in  a  house 
facing  Turtle  Bay,  on  the  East  River,  near  the  present 
47th  Street.  Among  our  nearest  neighbors  was  a  charm 
ing  family  trio  consisting  of  Mr.  Poe,  his  wife  Virginia, 
and  his  mother-in-law,  Mrs.  Clemm.  Poor  Virginia  Poe 
was  very  ill  at  the  time,  and  I  never  saw  her  leave  her 
home. 

"Poe  and  Mrs.  Clemm  would  very  frequently  call 
on  us.  He  would  also  run  over  every  little  while  to  ask 
my  father  to  lend  him  our  rowboat,  and  then  how  he 
would  enjoy  himself  pulling  at  the  oars  over  to  the  little 
islands  just  south  of  Blackwell's  Island,  for  his  after 
noon  swim. 

"Mrs.  Clemm  and  my  mother  soon  became  the  best 
of  friends,  and  she  found  mother  a  sympathetic  listener 
to  all  her  sad  tales  of  poverty  and  want.  I  would  often 
see  her  shedding  tears  as  she  talked.  In  the  midst  of 
this  friendship  they  came  and  told  us  they  were  going 
to  move  to  a  distant  place  called  Fordham,  where  they 
had  rented  a  little  cottage,  feeling  sure  the  pure  country 
air  would  do  Mrs.  Poe  a  world  of  good." 

It  was  very  late  in  the  spring  when  Poe  and  his  fam 
ily  retired  to  the  cottage  at  Fordham.  Mrs.  Gove-Nich- 
ols  wrote  to  the  Sixpenny  Magazine,  February,  1863, 
of  a  visit  made  to  Poe  about  this  time,  as  follows:  — 

"We  found  him,  and  his  wife,  and  his  wife's  mother 
—  who  was  his  aunt  —  living  in  a  little  cottage  at  the 
top  of  a  hill.  There  was  an  acre  or  two  of  greensward, 


Iviii  MEMOIR 

fenced  in  about  the  house,  as  smooth  as  velvet  and  as 
clean  as  the  best  kept  carpet.  There  were  some  grand 
old  cherry  trees  in  the  yard,  that  threw  a  massive  shade 
around  them.  The  house  had  three  rooms  —  a  kitchen, 
a  sitting-room,  and  a  bed-chamber  over  the  sitting- 
room.  There  was  a  piazza  in  front  of  the  house.  The 
sitting-room  was  laid  out  with  check  matting;  four 
chairs,  a  light  stand  and  a  hanging  book-shelf  com 
pleted  the  furniture.  On  the  book-shelf  there  lay  a 
volume  of  Poe's  poems.  He  took  it  down,  wrote  my 
name  in  it,  and  gave  it  to  me." 

Poe  appears  to  have  kept  a  supply  of  his  poems  of 
1845  on  hand,  and  made  many  presentation  copies. 
They  have  frequently  turned  up  at  book-auction  sales 
and  in  other  ways  since  his  death.  He  presented  Mrs. 
Shew  with  one  at  Fordham,  which  was  sold  by  a  London 
bookseller  some  years  ago.  This  was  said  to  have  slight 
changes  made  in  the  text  by  Poe,  which  is  an  error.  Poe 
tore  out  a  leaf  from  a  volume  of  the  poems  to  send  Mrs. 
Whitman  the  early  poem  of  "Helen,"  and  also  pre 
sented  her  with  a  volume  which  is  now  in  a  New  York 
private  library.  He  also  sent  a  copy  of  his  poems  to 
Miss  Elizabeth  Barrett  Barrett  (afterwards  Mrs. 
Browning),  who  wrote  him  a  letter  in  April,  1846,  in 
which  she  stated:  "Your  'Raven'  has  produced  a 
sensation,  a  'fit  horror/  here  in  England.  Some  of  my 
friends  are  taken  by  the  fear  of  it  and  some  by  the 
music.  I  hear  of  persons  haunted  by  the  '  Nevermore/ 
and  one  acquaintance  of  mine  who  has  the  misfortune 
of  possessing  a  'bust  of  Pallas'  never  can  bear  to  look  at 
it  in  the  twilight.  I  think  you  will  like  to  be  told  that 
our  great  poet  Mr.  Browning,  the  author  of  'Paracelsus' 
and  the  'Bells  and  Pomegranates/  was  struck  much 


MEMOIR  llX 

by  the  rhythm  of  that  poem.  Then  there  is  a  tale  of 
yours,  which  is  going  the  rounds  of  the  newspapers, 
about  mesmerism,  throwing  us  all  into  'most  admired 
disorder,'  and  dreadful  doubts  as  to  whether  'it  can  be 
true,'  as  the  children  say  of  ghost  stories.  The  certain 
thing  in  the  tale  in  question  is  the  power  of  the  writer, 
and  the  faculty  he  has  of  making  horrible  improbabili 
ties  seem  near  and  familiar."  Very  many  associations 
of  the  poet  cling  around  the  Fordham  cottage.  Al 
though  he  struggled  here  with  poverty,  and  both  he 
and  his  wife  were  ill,  the  quiet  retreat  gave  him  much 
pleasure.  He  was  in  communication  in  August  with 
P.  P.  Cooke  about  his  biography,  which  appeared  in 
the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  for  January,  1848. 
It  was  styled  "  Edgar  A.  Poe.  An  estimate  of  his  literary 
merits.  By  P.  P.  Cooke,"  and  stated:  "The  following 
paper  is  a  sequel  to  Mr.  Lowell's  memoir  (so  called), 
of  Mr.  Poe,  published  two  or  three  years  since  in  Gra 
ham1 's  Magazine.  Mr.  P.  edited  the  Messenger  for  sev 
eral  years,  and  the  pages  of  that  Magazine  would  seem 
therefore  a  proper  place  for  the  few  hurried  observa 
tions  which  I  have  made  upon  his  writings  and  genius." 
The  article  was  largely  a  review  of  the  "Raven,"  the 
"Valdemar  Case,"  "Ligeia,"  "The  Fall  of  the  House 
of  Usher,"  and  "Lenore."  The  concluding  remarks, 
probably  inspired  by  Poe,  were  as  follows:  "As  regards 
Wiley  &  Putnam's  tales  —  I  think  the  book  in  some 
respects  does  him  injustice.  It  contains  twelve  tales 
out  of  more  than  seventy;  and  it  is  made  up  almost 
wholly  of  what  may  be  called  his  analytic  tales.  This 
is  not  representing  the  author's  mind  in  its  various 
phases.  A  reader  gathering  his  knowledge  of  Mr.  Poe 
from  this  Wiley  &  Putnam  issue  would  perceive  nothing 


Ix  MEMOIR 

of  the  diversity  and  variety  for  which  his  writings  are 
in  fact  remarkable.  Only  the  publication  of  all  his 
stories,  at  one  issue,  in  one  book,  would  show  this  di 
versity  in  their  full  force;  but  much  more  might  have 
been  done  to  represent  his  mind  by  a  judicious  and  not 
wholly  one-toned  selection." 

Poe  was  also  in  correspondence  at  this  time  with 
William  Gilmore  Simms  and  Hawthorne.  His  letters 
show  his  great  solicitude  for  his  wife,  who  was  slowly 
dying.  It  was  while  the  Literati  Papers  were  running 
that  Poe  made  some  facetious  remarks  about  the  poet, 
Thomas  Dunn  English,  referring  to  him  as  Thomas 
Done  Brown.  English  retaliated  in  a  newspaper  article. 
Poe  replied  and  finally  brought  suit  for  damages,  and 
on  February  17,  1847,  recovered  damages  of  $225.1 
It  was  Poe's  intention  eventually  to  publish  his 
Literati  Papers;  and  the  original  memoranda  for  the 
prospectus  of  the  Living  Writers  of  America,  entirely 
in  his  autograph,  were  in  the  library  of  the  late  Bishop 
Hurst,  which  was  dispersed  at  auction  in  March,  1905. 
They  were  written  on  four  pages  of  folio  paper  and  on 
four  pages  of  smaller  size,  with  many  alterations  and 
erasures  by  Poe.  The  title  on  the  first  page  was:  "The 
Living  Writers  of  America.  Some  Honest  Opinions 
about  their  Literary  Merits,  with  Occasional  Words  of 
Personality.  By  Edgar  A.  Poe.  With  Notices  of  the 
Author  by  James  Russell  Lowell  &  P.  P.  Cooke." 
He  commenced  with  a  reference  to  the  Godey  publica 
tions,  and  said  the  publisher  was  badgered  into  giving 

1  An  unpublished  letter  written  by  Poe  to  J.  M.  Fields,  editor 
of  the  St.  Louis  Reveille,  dated  June  15,  1846,  giving  an  account 
of  the  English  matter  in  the  New  York  Mirror  was  among  the 
papers  of  the  late  £.  C.  Stedman. 


MEMOIR  Ixi 

it  up.  He  speaks  of  the  English  attack  and  says:  "Suc 
cess  induced  me  to  extend  the  plan  .  .  .  discard  petty 
animosities  —  it  will  be  seen  that  where  through  petu 
lance  or  neglect,  or  underestimate  of  the  impression  the 
papers  were  to  make,  I  have  done  injustice,  I  have  not 
scrupled  to  repair  the  wrong,  even  at  the  expense  of 
consistency.  .  .  .  Political  sectional  animosities  .  .  . 
result  a  depreciation  of  Southern  and  Western  talent, 
which  upon  the  whole  is  greater,  more  vivid,  fresher, 
than  that  of  the  North,  less  conventional,  less  conser 
vative  —  want  of  centralisation  gives  birth  to  a  peculiar 
cliquism  whose  separate  penchants  render  it  nearly 
impossible  to  get  at  the  truth  —  Instance  the  Human 
ity  clique  —  to  which  belong  Emerson,  Lowell,  Haw 
thorne,  Godwin,  Fuller,  Mrs.  Child,  Whittier  —  and 
who  judge  all  literature  in  accordance  with  its  hobby." 
There  is  much  of  the  matter  personal  and  about  his 
literary  work;  also  notes  on  prominent  literary  charac 
ters  of  his  day,  with  trenchant  criticisms. 

In  some  correspondence  with  E.  A.  Duyckinck  in 
November,  1845,  Poe  mentions  his  American  Parnas 
sus,  and  the  supposition  is  that  he  had  made  a  work 
along  this  same  line  at  that  time,  or  this  may  have  been 
the  same  work  revised.  Mrs.  Gove,  who  visited  the 
Poe  family  in  October,  found  them  in  destitute  cir 
cumstances,  and  with  a  view  of  rendering  aid  intro 
duced  Mrs.  M.  L.  Shew.  Some  notice  of  the  family's 
condition  was  published  in  the  newspapers,  and  a  con 
tribution  of  sixty  dollars  was  raised.  Poe  wrote  an 
open  letter  December  30,  1846,  endeavoring  to  modify 
the  humiliating  publications.  With  the  turn  of  the 
year  1847  his  wife  began  to  sink.  Mrs.  Shew  had  proven 
the  ministering  angel  to  the  household.  She  was  in  con- 


Ixil  MEMOIR 

stant  attendance,  and  Poe  in  his  gratitude  wrote  her  a 
number  of  letters.  He  also  wrote  her  two  poems.  Mrs. 
William  Wiley,  a  daughter  of  Mrs.  Shew  now  residing 
at  Long  Island,  remembers  many  pleasant  reminis 
cences  of  Poe  told  her  by  her  mother.  It  was  at  her 
house  that  he  wrote  an  early  draft  of  the  "Bells,"  the 
manuscript  of  which,  it  is  claimed,  Mrs.  Shew  sent  to 
England,  with  other  material  as  a  loan.  This  was  after 
wards  sold,  but  is  now  in  this  country.  When  Mrs. 
Wiley  was  a  schoolgirl  and  was  given  some  lessons  on 
Poe  by  her  teacher,  her  mother  gave  her  this  manu 
script  to  show  to  her  teacher. 

Poe's  wife  died  January  30,  1847.  She  was  buried 
at  Fordham,  but  her  remains  were  afterwards  reinterred 
in  the  same  plot  with  Poe  at  Baltimore.  After  his 
wife's  death  Poe  was  very  ill,  which  was  mentioned  by 
Cooke  in  the  Messenger  for  January,  1848.  He  was 
cared  for  by  Mrs.  Clemm  and  Mrs.  Shew,  while  other 
friends  raised  funds  for  his  support.  After  some  months 
Poe  began  to  recover,  and  Mrs.  Shew,  having  other 
important  engagements,  took  leave  of  the  family  and 
advised  Poe  to  marry  a  "sensible  woman."  When  he 
was  able  to  go  about  again,  he  spent  some  time  planning 
his  prose  poem  —  "Eureka."  In  the  March  Home 
Journal  it  was  announced  that  Poe  would  soon  pub 
lish  The  Authors  of  America,  in  Prose  and  Verse,  but 
nothing  more  was  heard  of  this.  It  was  probably  his 
American  Parnassus,  which  was  finally  changed  to  the 
Living  Writers  of  America.  His  poem  "Ulalume" 
was  published  at  the  close  of  the  year.  In  the  early 
part  of  1848  he  had  some  correspondence  looking  to 
wards  the  revival  of  his  scheme  of  publishing  the 
Stylus.  He  delivered  a  lecture  in  the  hall  of  the  So- 


MEMOIR  Ixii! 

ciety  Library,  New  York,  in  February,  on  the  "Cos 
mogony  of  the  Universe."  His  volume  Eureka  was 
published  in  New  York  in  the  summer.  His  own  copy 
of  this  was  also  in  the  Bishop  Hurst  library  sale.  This 
volume  was  sent  after  Poe's  death  by  a  relative  to  Gris- 
wold,  who  wrote  his  name  and  the  remark  that  it  was 
"Poe's  private  copy"  on  the  first  end  paper.  It  is 
marked  throughout  with  penciled  additions  and  alter 
ations.  A  note  in  Poe's  hand  on  the  last  leaf  has  caused 
some  comment.  It  reads:  "The  pain  of  the  considera 
tion  that  we  shall  lose  our  identity,  ceases  at  once  when 
we  further  reflect  that  the  process,  as  above  described, 
is,  neither  more  nor  less  than  that  of  the  absorption,  by 
each  individual  intelligence,  of  all  other  intelligences 
(that  is,  of  the  Universe)  into  its  own.  That  God  may 
be  all  in  all,  each  must  become  God."  Poe  embodied 
some  of  his  ideas  in  Eureka  in  an  article  in  Burton's 
Gentleman's  Magazine  for  August,  1839,  which  is  headed 
~rrAn  Opinion  on  Dreams."  This  stated:  "Various 
opinions  have  been  hazarded  concerning  dreams  — 
whether  they  have  any  connection  with  the  invisible 
and  eternal  world  or  not;  and  it  appears  to  me,  the 
reason  why  nothing  like  a  definite  conclusion  has  yet 
been  arrived  at,  is  from  the  circumstance  of  the  ar- 
guers  never  making  any  distinction  between  Mind  and 
soul,  always  speaking  of  them  as  one  and  the  same.  I 
believe  man  to  be  in  himself  a  Trinity,  viz.  Mind,  Body, 
and  Soul;  and  thus  with  dreams,  some  induced  by  the 
mind,  and  some  by  the  soul.  Those  connected  with  the 
mind,  I  think  proceed  partly  from  supernatural  and 
partly  from  natural  causes;  those  of  the  soul  I  believe 
are  of  the  immaterial  world  alone."  The  remainder  of 
the  article  endeavors  to  show  how  the  soul's  dream  and 


IxiV  MEMOIR 

that  of  the  mind  are  distinguishable;  and  whether 
sometimes,  or  often,  they  are  not  both  at  the  same 
moment  bearing  their  part  in  the  nocturnal  vision.  It 
was  early  in  1848  when  Poe  wrote  the  first  draft  of  the 
"Bells,"  which  he  sent  to  Sartain's  Union  Magazine, 
but  it  did  not  find  publication.  He  also  contributed 
"Marginalia"  and  "Fifty  Suggestions"  to  Graham's, 
and  a  "Sonnet"  to  the  Union  Magazine. 

In  July  Poe  went  to  Lowell  and  lectured  on  the 
"Poetic  Principle."  There  he  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  Richmond  family.  Mrs.  Richmond  was  "  his  Annie." 
His  descriptions  in  "Landor's  Cottage"  are  said  to 
correspond  with  his  first  visit  to  the  Richmond  home, 
and  in  writing  this  story  he  is  presumed  to  have  had 
the  Richmond  cottage  in  mind;  in  fact,  he  has  left 
it  written  statement  that  the  tale  has  something  of 
"Annie"  in  it.  In  the  light  of  Poe's  later  love  affairs 
this  is  interesting.  He  says:  "As  no  bell  was  discern 
ible,  I  rapped  with  my  stick  against  the  door,  which 
stood  half  open.  Instantly  a  figure  advanced  to  the 
threshold  —  that  of  a  young  woman  about  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age  —  slender,  or  rather  slight,  and  some 
what  above  the  medium  height.  As  she  approached, 
with  a  certain  modest  decision  of  step  altogether  inde 
scribable,  I  said  to  myself,  'Surely  here  I  have  found 
the  perfection  of  natural,  in  contradiction  from  arti 
ficial  grace.'  The  second  impression  which  she  made 
on  me,  but  by  far  the  more  vivid  of  the  two,  was  that 
of  enthusiasm.  So  intense  an  expression  of  Romance, 
perhaps  I  should  call  it,  or  of  unworldliness,  as  that 
which  gleamed  from  her  deep-set  eyes,  had  never  so 
sunk  into  my  heart  of  hearts  before.  I  know  not  how 
it  is,  but  this  peculiar  expression  of  the  eye,  wreathing 


MEMOIR  IXV 

itself  occasionally  into  the  lips,  is  the  most  powerful, 
if  not  absolutely  the  sole  spell,  which  rivets  my  interest 
in  woman.  'Romance,'  provided  my  readers  fully  com 
prehend  what  I  would  here  imply  by  the  word  'ro 
mance,'  and  'womanliness'  seem  to  me  convertible 
terms:  and,  after  all,  what  man  truly  loves  in  woman 
is,  simply,  her  womanhood.  The  eyes  of  Annie  (I  heard 
some  one  from  the  ulterior  call  her  'Annie,  darling!') 
were  'spiritual  gray';  her  hair,  a  light  chestnut:  this  is 
all  I  had  time  to  observe  of  her."  It  was  only  a  few 
months  afterwards  when  he  published  his  lines 

"To ,"  giving  another  romantic  description  of  his 

first  meeting  with  Mrs.  Sarah  Helen  Whitman,  —  "His 
Helen  of  a  thousand  dreams." 

In  July  Poe  went  to  Richmond,  Virginia,  on  a  lec 
ture  tour.  It  is  singular  that  no  newspaper  notice  of 
his  arrival,  his  departure,  nor  mention  of  this  visit  can 
be  found  in  that  city.  As  he  wrote  to  Snodgrass  of  the 
earlier  days  in  Richmond,  he  gave  way  again  "to  the 
temptations  held  out  by  the  spirit  of  Southern  con 
viviality."  This  was  Poe's  failing,  for  whenever  he 
listened  to  the  voice  of  the  tempter,  he  usually  suc 
cumbed —  a  glass  of  wine  or  cider  causing  a  pro 
tracted  spree.  His  visit  to  the  MacKenzie  family, 
where  his  sister  Rosalie  resided,  was  brief,  and  he 
spent  most  of  his  time  among  the  newspaper  fra 
ternity.  His  early  child-love,  Miss  Poitiaux,  has  stated 
that  he  was  refused  admittance  at  her  home  when  he 
called  on  this  visit,  because  of  his  condition.  In  a 
letter  of  John  R.  Thompson  to  Patterson,  dated  No 
vember  9,  1849,  in  reply  to  inquiries  concerning  Poe, 
be  wrote  "  that  his  acquaintance  began  in  the  Spring 
of  1848.  That  he  had  heard  of  Poe  being  on  a  de- 


Ixvi  MEMOIR 

bauch  in  the  lower  section  of  the  city  for  two  weeks. 
The  day  following  Poe  called  on  him."  After  such  a 
spree  as  Thompson's  letter  indicates  Poe  suffered 
dreadfully,  and  it  usually  took  him  many  days  to  re 
cover.  If,  as  Thompson  states,  he  was  able  to  call  on 
him  in  so  short  a  time  afterwards,  Poe  was  hardly 
drinking  at  his  worst,  but  moderately.  This  is  verified 
by  a  statement  made  to  me  by  the  late  Charles  M. 
Wallace,  Richmond's  historian,  who  had  an  accurate 
memory.  He  saw  Poe  during  this  visit  several  times 
and  knew  he  was  drinking,  but  never  saw  him  unable  to 
take  care  of  himself.  Late  one  night  Mr.  Wallace  was 
called  out  of  bed  by  Richmond's  best  known  newspaper 
editor  in  that  day,  who  took  him  to  meet  the  then  fa 
mous  poet  at  a  nearby  resort  and  hear  him  declaim 
"Eureka"  and  ''The  Raven,"  before  a  select  assem 
blage  of  Richmond  Bohemians.  When  he  arrived  Poe 
was  standing  among  the  assemblage  discussing  matters 
of  the  day.  His  manners  were  nervous  and  his  coun 
tenance  was  flushed,  but  he  was  not  drunk.  Mr.  Wallace 
was  introduced  to  Poe,  who  bowed  in  a  dignified 
way,  and  in  a  few  moments  by  request  began  his  dis 
course,  which  lasted  for  about  an  hour,  and  was  enter 
taining.  It  is  not  thought  that  Thompson  saw  much 
of  Poe  on  this  visit,  and  his  information  about  Poe's 
habits  possibly  came  second  hand.  I  have  another 
unpublished  letter  of  Thompson's  to  P.  P.  Cooke,  dated 
October  17,  1848,  in  which  he  states:1  "Poe  is  not  in 
Richmond.  He  remained  here  about  three  weeks,  hor 
ribly  drunk,  and  discoursing  'Eureka'  to  the  audiences 
of  Bar  Rooms.  His  friends  tried  to  get  him  sober 
and  set  him  to  work,  but  to  no  effect,  and  were  com- 

1  John  R.  Thompson  to  P.  P.  Cooke,  MS. 


MEMOIR  Ixvii 

pelled  at  last  to  reship  him  to  New  York.  I  was  very 
anxious  for  him  to  write  something  for  me,  while  he 
remained  here,  but  his  'lucid  intervals'  were  so  brief 
and  infrequent  that  it  was  quite  impossible.  '  The  Ra 
tionale  of  Verse '  I  took,  more  as  an  act  of  charity  than 
anything  else,  for  though  exhibiting  great  acquaintance 
with  the  subject,  it  is  altogether  too  bizarre,  and  too  tech 
nical  for  the  general  reader.  Poe  is  a  singular  fellow." 

Poe's  work  during  this  period  shows  that  he  was 
sober  long  enough  to  write  many  columns  of  matter. 
Some  of  his  manuscript,  given  away  by  Thompson,  is 
still  in  Richmond,  —  "a  work  of  manual  art."  Besides 
"The  Rationale  of  Verse"  and  a  review  of  Mrs.  Lewis's 
poems,  in  the  Messenger,  he  also  sent  a  new  "Literati" 
paper  on  Mrs.  Lewis  to  the  Democratic  Review.  He  is 
not  thought  to  have  seen  Mrs.  Shelton,  his  early  love, 
on  this  visit.  His  love  affairs  were  never  much  of  a 
secret.  In  her  letter  to  Griswold  about  Poe  in  1850, 
Mrs.  Osgood  wrote:  "Mrs.  Ellet  asked  an  introduction 
to  him  and  followed  him  everywhere,  Miss  Lynch 
begged  me  to  bring  him  there  and  called  upon  him  at 
his  lodgings,  Mrs.  Whitman  besieged  him  with  valen 
tines  and  letters  long  before  he  wrote  or  took  any  notice 
of  her,  and  all  the  others  wrote  poetry  and  letters  to 
him."  Very  much  has  been  written  about  Poe's  rela 
tions  with  women,  and  his  letters  and  love  affairs  have 
been  closely  investigated,  but  many  incidents  hinted 
at  in  this  letter  of  Mrs.  Osgood,  which  might  put  some 
matters  in  a  different  light,  have  been  lost  sight  of. 
Mrs.  Lewis,  who  was  anxious  for  public  recognition 
and  advertisement  of  her  poems,  also  followed  him 
about,  and  he  had  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  her. 
He  asked  her  to  write  his  life  when  he  died.  Mrs. 


Ixvili  MEMOIR 

Clemm  wrote  her  letters  in  the  latter  days,  and  after 
Poe's  death  went  to  live  with  her.  Her  husband  wrote 
Miss  S.  S.  Rice  of  Baltimore  a  letter  October  n,  1875, 
which  I  am  permitted  to  use.  He  said:  "I  have  resided 
and  practised  my  profession  of  the  law  in  Brooklyn  for 
about  thirty  years.  Shortly  after  I  moved  here,  in  1845, 
Mr.  Poe  and  I  became  personal  friends.  His  last  resi 
dence,  and  where  I  visited  him  oftenest,  was  in  a 
beautifully  secluded  cottage  at  Fordham,  fourteen 
miles  above  New  York.  It  was  there  that  I  often  saw 
his  dear  wife  during  her  last  illness,  and  attended  her 
funeral.  It  was  from  there  that  he  and  his  '  dear  Mud- 
die'  (Mrs.  Clemm)  often  visited  me  at  my  house,  fre 
quently,  and  at  my  urgent  solicitation,  remaining  many 
days.  When  he  finally  departed  on  his  last  trip  south, 
the  kissing  and  handshaking  were  at  my  front  door. 
He  was  hopeful;  we  were  sad:  and  tears  gushed  in 
torrents  as  he  kissed  his  dear  'Muddie'  and  my  wife 
'good-bye.'  Alas,  it  proved,  as  Mrs.  Clemm  feared,  a 
final  adieu.  I  offered  Mrs.  Clemm  a  home  in  my 
family,  where  she  resided  until  1858,  when  she  re 
moved  to  Baltimore  to  lay  her  ashes  by  the  side  of 
her  'darling  Eddie.'  Mr.  Poe  was  one  of  the  most 
affectionate,  kind-hearted  men  I  ever  knew.  I  never 
witnessed  so  much  tender  affection  and  devotion  as 
existed  in  that  family  of  three  persons.  I  have  spent 
weeks  in  the  closest  intimacy  with  him,  and  never  saw 
hmi  under  the  slightest  influence  of  any  stimulants 
whatever.  In  my  presence  he  was  the  polished  gentle 
man,  the  profound  scholar,  the  true  critic,  and  the  in 
spired  oracular  poet  —  dreamy  and  spiritual,  lofty,  but 
sad.  His  biographers  have  not  done  his  virtues  or  his 
genius  justice;  and,  to  produce  a  startling  effect  by 


MEMOIR  Ixix 

contrast,  have  magnified  his  errors  and  attributed  to 
him  faults  that  he  never  had." 

With  so  many  devoted  lady  admirers  as  Poe  had 
when  he  was  in  Richmond  on  his  first  visit,  his  move 
ments  were  closely  watched.  While  the  "Whitman 
romance"  had  just  started,  still  it  was  talked  about  in 
literary  circles  and  mentioned  by  Poe  himself  in  Rich 
mond.  Among  the  literary  characters  he  met  with 
there  was  John  M.  Daniel  of  the  Examiner.  They  did 
not  get  along  together,  and  bad  feelings  existed  between 
them  from  the  start.  Daniel  had  an  acquaintance  with 
Mrs.  Whitman's  family,  and,  hearing  about  Poe's  at 
tentions,  made  disparaging  remarks,  which  came  to 
Poe's  ears.  This  with  some  other  dispute  about  a  debt 
infuriated  Poe,  who  sent  a  challenge  to  Daniel  to  fight 
a  duel.1  The  affair  was  well  remembered  by  Judge 
Hughes.  The  newspaper  men  arranged  to  have  Poe 
meet  Daniel  alone  in  the  Examiner  office,  but  the  mat 
ter  was  settled  without  any  recourse  to  arms.  Daniel 
afterwards  published  an  unkind  allusion  to  the  reported 
engagement  of  Poe  and  Mrs.  Whitman,  but  became 
one  of  his  most  intimate  friends.  And  yet  when  Poe 
died  he  wrote  in  the  Messenger  a  rather  harsh  account 
of  his  life.  Later  still  he  wrote  a  pleasant  and  favorable 
letter  about  Poe  to  Mrs.  Whitman,  which  she  quoted 
in  her  publication,  Edgar  Poe  and  his  Critics. 

After  Poe's  return  home  he  traveled  between  New 
York,  Lowell,  and  Providence,  lecturing  on  the  "Poetic 
Principle."  In  the  Richmond  Whig  of  August  17, 1849, 
probably  inspired  by  Poe,  it  was  stated:  "This  lecture 

1  The  Life  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe.  By  George  E.  Woodberry. 
Houghton  Mifflin  Co.,  Boston  and  New  York.  1909.  Vol.  ii, 
p.  443,  reprints  a  full  account. 


IxX  MEMOIR 

on  the  Poetic  Principle  is  one  of  the  course  delivered 
before  the  Providence  Lyceum  last  fall,  the  other 
lecturers  being  Rufus  Choate,  Theodore  Parker, 
Alonzo  Potter  (Bishop  of  Pennsylvania),  Louis  Agassiz, 
the  French  savant,  and  Daniel  Webster,  who  opened 
the  course.  Mr.  Poe  had  the  largest  audience  of  the 
season,  more  than  1600  persons."  In  another  notice  in 
this  paper  Poe  gave  some  mention  of  the  publication 
of  his  tales  in  France,  showing  a  knowledge  of  the 
publications. 

Among  other  incidents  in  the  life  of  Poe,  much  has 
been  written  about  his  love  entanglements  with  Mrs. 
Sarah  Helen  Whitman.  He  was  to  marry  her  in  De 
cember.  She  is  said  to  have  heard  that  Poe  was  drinking 
again,  and  when  he  called  she  drenched  her  handkerchief 
with  ether  and  threw  herself  on  a  sofa,  hoping  to  lose 
consciousness.  She  remembered  his  last  words  and  that 
she  told  him  that  she  "loved  him."  After  this  Mrs. 
Whitman  mentioned  that  she  playfully  sent  some  verses 
about  him — "  Stanzas  for  Music  " — to  the  Metropolitan 
Magazine  for  February,  1849.  She  always  would  have 
it  that  Poe  construed  these  lines  as  an  olive  branch,  and 
in  return  wrote  "Annabel  Lee."  Poe  during  his  last 
visit  to  Richmond  stated  to  Judge  Hughes  that  Mrs. 
Whitman  had  made  repeated  efforts  towards  a  recon 
ciliation,  which  he  refused.  It  seems  evident  that  he 
paid  no  attention  to  her  lines  in  the  Metropolitan,  for 
Mrs.  Whitman  again  sent  other  verses  to  the  Southern 
Literary  Messenger,  where  she  knew  they  would  come 
under  his  eye.  So  that  Poe  might  not  regard  them  as 
old  stock,  she  dated  them  "Isle  of  Rhodes,  March, 
1849."  They  appeared  in  the  June  number  of  the 
Messenger,  beginning, — 


MEMOIR  1XX1 

"I  bade  thee  stay.  Too  well  I  knew 
The  fault  was  mine,  mine  only. " 

Mrs.  Whitman  forgot  to  mention  these  lines  in  after 
life,  and  possibly  lived  in  hopes  that  they  had  been 
forgotten,  but  she  took  pains  to  revise  them  for  the 
later  publication  of  her  poems. 

After  Poe's  death  Mrs.  Whitman  made  a  fetish  of  his 
memory.  She  gave  out  portions  of  his  letters  written 
to  her,  and  a  fragment  of  a  facsimile.  After  her  own 
death  there  appeared  The  Last  Letters  of  Edgar  Allan 
Poe  to  Sarah  Helen  Whitman.  The  matter  in  the  vol 
ume  appeared  in  the  Century  Magazine  for  January, 
1909,  as  "New  Light  on  a  Romantic  Episode."  It  was 
claimed  that  the  letters  now  appeared  without  "omis 
sions,  garbling  or  diversion."  A  comparison  with  that 
text  and  the  fragment  of  the  facsimile  shows  a  slight 
difference  in  at  least  one  of  the  letters.  There  are  also 
some  deviations  between  the  marriage  and  another 
contract  as  given  in  the  book  and  magazine. 

After  parting  with  Mrs.  Whitman  Poe  drew  closer 
to  "Annie,"  as  his  letters  show.  He  also  seemed  hopeful 
and  made  preparations  for  more  active  literary  labors. 
In  an  unpublished  letter  dated  Fordham,  Saturday, 
January  20  (1849),  he  wrote  the  American  Whig  Re 
view:  l  "May  I  trouble  you  to  hand  the  accompanying 
brief  article  to  Mr.  Whelpley  and  see  if  he  can  give  me 
$10  for  it?  About  four  years  ago,  I  think,  I  wrote  a 
paper  on  'The  American  Drama'  for  your  review.  It 
was  printed  anonymously  —  my  name  not  given  in 
the  index.  The  criticism  referred  chiefly  to  Willis's 
'Tortesa'  and  Longfellow's  'Spanish  Student.'  Could 
you  procure  me  the  number  containing  it?  " 
1  Poe  to  John  Priestly,  Proprietor,  MS. 


Ixxii  MEMOIR 

His  later  correspondence  shows  that  the  article  sent 
in  this  communication  was  "Critics  and  Criticism," 
which  was  not  accepted,  and  he  sent  it  to  Graham's, 
where  it  did  not  find  publication  until  after  his  death. 
His  income  does  not  appear  to  have  been  sufficient  for 
his  needs,  and  he  had  to  resort  to  his  former  habit  of 
borrowing,  as  evidenced  by  a  sixty  days'  note  given 
by  him  for  sixty-seven  dollars,  February  3,  1849,  to 
Isaac  Cooper,  a  relative  of  the  novelist.  In  this  same 
month  he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  F.  W.  Thomas:  "Right 
glad  am  I  to  find  you  once  more  in  a  true  position  — 
'in  the  field  of  letters.'  Depend  upon  it  after  all, 
Thomas,  literature  is  the  most  noble  of  professions. 
In  fact,  it  is  about  the  only  one  fit  for  a  man.  For  my 
own  part  there  is  no  seducing  me  from  the  path.  I 
shall  be  a  litterateur,  at  least,  all  my  life;  nor  would 
I  abandon  the  hopes  which  still  lead  me  on  for  all  the 
gold  in  California."  He  had  also  remarked  to  a  friend, 
"One  Richard,  whom  you  know  is  himself  again."  He 
sent  a  review  of  Griswold's  Female  Poets  of  America 
to  the  Messenger  for  February,  which  has  been  over 
looked  by  previous  biographers.  In  the  March  number 
he  wrote  his  criticism  on  Lowell's  A  Fable  for  Critics. 
He  wrote  for  Godey's,  and  had  also  become  a  regular 
contributor  to  the  Boston  Flag  of  Our  Union.  His  con 
tributions  there  have  never  been  known  with  any  de 
gree  of  certainty  until  now.  He  contributed:  March  3, 
"A  Valentine";  March  17,  "Hop  Frog";  March  31, 
"A  Dream  within  a  Dream";  April  14,  "Von  Kem- 
pelen  and  his  Discovery";  April  21,  "Eldorado";  April 
28,  "For  Annie";  May  12,  "Xing  a  Paragrab";  June 
9,  "Lander's  Cottage,"  and  July  7,  "Sonnet — To  my 
Mother."  These  were  mentioned  as  by  Edgar  A.  Poe, 
a  regular  contributor. 


MEMOIR  Ixxill 

In  May  Poe's  hopes  for  the  publication  of  his  Sty* 
lus  were  revived  by  finding  a  partner  in  E.  H.  Patter 
son.  It  was  with  the  object  of  securing  subscriptions 
for  this  that  he  started  South  in  June.  At  Philadelphia 
he  met  with  his  old  companions  again,  with  the  usual 
result  that  he  was  in  the  end  desperately  ill.  His 
friend  John  Sartain  and  others  took  care  of  him,  and  he 
finally  arrived  in  Richmond,  Saturday,  July  14,  1849. 
He  stopped  at  the  old  Swan  Tavern,  where  Dr.  George 
W.  Rawlings,  the  physician  who  was  with  his  early 
companion  Burling  when  he  died  of  cholera,  attended 
him. 

Dr.  Rawlings,  who  lived  in  a  small  frame  house  on 
Broad  Street  adjoining  the  Swan  Tavern,  stated  that 
in  his  delirium  Poe  drew  a  pistol  and  tried  to  shoot  him. 
Burling,  before  his  death  about  1832,  lived  around  the 
corner  from  Dr.  Rawlings  on  Ninth  Street.  When 
Poe  recovered  he  joined  a  temperance  society.  A  refer 
ence  to  this  from  the  Philadelphia  Bulletin  was  copied 
in  the  Richmond  Whig  in  September,  while  Poe  was 
in  Richmond.  The  same  paper  about  this  time  copied 
a  favorable  notice  from  the  Cincinnati  Atlas,  referring 
to  Poe's  visit  to  Richmond  and  his  lecture.  A  lengthy 
review  of  Mrs.  Osgood's  poems,  written  by  Poe,  ap 
peared  in  the  August  Messenger.  He  delivered  his  first 
lecture  August  17  in  the  Exchange  concert  rooms.  His 
subject  was  the  "Poetic  Principle."  The  Whig  had  a 
favorable  notice,  and  urged  him  to  repeat  the  lecture. 
Poe  has  written  in  his  letters  of  this  lecture,  and  men 
tioned  that  all  the  press  notices  were  favorable  except 
one  written  by  Daniel,  whom  he  had  once  challenged. 
This  notice,  inaccessible  until  now,  is  of  interest,  and 
appeared  in  the  Examiner  of  August  21,  as  follows:  —  , 


IxXlV  MEMOIR 

"Poe's  subject  was  the  'Poetic  Principle,'  and  lie 
treated  it  with  all  the  acuteness  and  imagination  that 
we  had  expected  from  him.  We  were  glad  to  hear  the 
lecturer  explode  what  he  properly  pronounced  to  be 
the  poetic  'heresy  of  modern  times,'  to  wit:  that  poetry 
should  have  a  purpose,  an  end  to  accomplish  beyond 
that  of  ministering  to  our  sense  of  the  beautiful.  We 
have  in  these  days  poets  of  humanity  and  poets  of  uni 
versal  suffrage,  poets  whose  mission  it  is  to  break  down 
com  laws  and  poets  to  build  up  workhouses.  The  idea 
infects  half  the  criticism  and  all  the  poetry  of  this  utili 
tarian  country.  But  no  idea  can  be  more  false,  as  we 
have  elementary  faculties  in  our  minds  whose  end  is  to 
reason,  others  to  perceive  colors  and  forms,  and  others 
to  construct,  and  as  argument,  painting,  and  mechanics 
are  the  products  of  those  faculties  and  are  only  intended 
for  them;  as  we  have  nerves  to  be  pleased  with  per 
fumes;  others  with  gay  colors  and  others  with  the  con 
tact  of  soft  bodies  —  so  have  we  an  elementary  faculty 
for  perceiving  beauty  with  ends  of  its  own  and  means 
of  its  own  —  Poetry  is  the  product  of  this  faculty,  and 
of  no  other;  it  is  addressed  to  the  sense  of  the  beauti 
ful  and  to  no  other  sense.  It  is  ever  injured  when 
subjected  to  the  criterion  of  other  faculties,  and  was 
never  intended  to  fulfill  any  other  objects  than  those 
peculiar  to  the  organ  of  the  mind  from  which  it  re 
ceived  its  birth.  Mr.  Poe  made  good  his  distinction 
with  a  great  deal  of  acuteness  and  in  a  very  clever 
manner.  His  various  pieces  of  criticism  upon  the  popu 
lar  poets  of  the  country  were  for  the  most  part  just, 
and  were  very  entertaining.  But  we  were  disap 
pointed  in  Mr.  Poe's  recitations.  We  had  heard  a 
good  deal  of  his  manner,  but  it  does  not  answer  our 


MEMOIR  1XXV 

wants.  His  voice  is  soft  and  distinct,  but  neither  clear 
nor  sonorous.  He  does  not  make  rhyme  effective;  he 
reads  ali  verse  like  blank  verse ;  and  yet  he  gives  it  a 
sing  song  of  his  own  more  monotonous  than  any  versi 
fication.  On  the  two  last  syllables  of  every  sentence 
he  invariably  falls  a  fifth.  He  did  not  make  his  own 
'  Raven '  an  effective  piece  of  reading.  At  this  we  would 
not  be  surprised  were  any  other  than  the  author  its 
reader.  The  chief  charm  perhaps  of  that  extraordinary 
composition  is  the  strange  and  subtle  music  of  the 
versification.  As  in  Mr.  Longfellow's  rhythm  we  can 
hear  it  with  our  mind's  ear  while  we  read  it  ourselves, 
but  no  human  organs  are  sufficiently  delicate  to  weave 
it  into  articulate  sounds.  For  this  reason  we  are  not 
surprised  at  ordinary  failures  in  reading  these  pieces. 
But  we  anticipated  some  peculiar  charm  in  their  utter 
ances  by  the  lips  of  him  who  created  the  verse,  and  in 
this  case  we  were  disappointed.  A  large  audience  was 
in  attendance.  Indeed  the  concert  room  was  com 
pletely  filled.  Mr.  Poe  commenced  his  career  in  this 
city,  and  those  who  had  not  seen  him  since  the  days 
of  his  obscurity  of  course  felt  no  little  curiosity  to 
behold  so  famous  a  townsman.  Mr.  Poe  is  a  small  thin 
man,  slightly  formed,  keen  visaged,  with  dark  com 
plexion,  dark  hair,  and  we  believe  dark  eyes.  His  face 
is  not  an  ordinary  one.  The  forehead  is  well  developed 
and  the  nose  somewhat  more  prominent  than  usual. 
Mr.  Poe  is  a  man  of  very  decided  genius.  Indeed  we 
know  of  no  other  writer  in  the  United  States  who  has 
half  the  chance  to  be  remembered  in  the  history  of 
literature.  But  his  reputation  will  rest  on  a  very  small 
minority  of  his  compositions.  Among  all  his  poems 
there  are  only  two  pieces  which  are  not  execrably  bad,  — 


1XXV1  MEMOIR 

'The  Raven*  and  'Dream-Land.'  The  majority  of  his 
prose  compositions  are  the  children  of  want  and  dys 
pepsia,  of  the  printer's  devils  and  the  blue  devils  —  had 
he  possessed  the  power  of  applying  his  creative  faculty, 
—  as  have  the  Miltons,  the  Shakespeares,  and  all  the 
other  demiurgi,  —  he  would  have  been  a  great  man. 
But  there  is  not  one  trace  of  that  power  in  any  of  his 
compositions  that  we  have  read;  and  if  rumor  is  to 
be  credited  his  career  has  been  that  of  the  Marlowes, 
the  Jonsons,  the  Dekkers,  and  the  Websters,  the  old 
dramatists  and  translunary  rowdies  of  the  Elizabethan 
age.  Had  Mr.  Poe  possessed  talent  in  the  place  of 
genius,  he  might  have  been  a  popular  and  money- 
making  author.  He  would  have  written  a  great  many 
more  good  things  than  he  has;  but  his  title  to  immor 
tality  would  not  and  could  not  be  surer  than  it  is — • 
For  the  few  things  that  the  author  has  written  which 
are  at  all  tolerable  are  coins  stamped  with  the  unmis 
takable  die.  They  are  of  themselves,  sui  generis,  unlike 
any  diagrams  in  Time's  kaleidoscope,  either  past,  pres- 
ent,!"or  to  come — and  gleam  with  the  diamond  hues  of 
Eternity." 

Poe  afterwards  called  to  see  Daniel  to  disabuse  his 
mind  of  the  unfavorable  portions  of  this  criticism.  He 
succeeded  in  so  far  as  to  effect  an  arrangement  to 
become  an  associate  with  Daniel  on  the  Examiner 
newspaper.  It  was  arranged  that  he  was  to  do  the  book 
reviewing  and  other  literary  work.  He  was  also  to 
revise  and  republish  his  writings,  especially  his  poems, 
and  the  principal  poems  were  to  be  published  in  the 
Examiner.  He  was  shown  a  desk  by  Daniel  and  asked 
to  commence  work.  This  was  Daniel's  way,  and  it  was 
also  his  habit  not  to  say  much  in  his  paper  about  his 


MEMOIR  Ixxvil 

associates.  He  always  liked  Daniel  to  be  kept  fully  in 
the  foreground.  The  connection  of  Poe,  however,  was 
talked  about  in  newspaper  circles  and  well  understood 
at  the  time. 

The  late  Bishop  O.  P.  Fitzgerald  wrote:  — 
"I  was  in  Richmond  in  1849,  and  remember  Mr.  Poe, 
with  his  white  linen  coat  and  trousers,  black  velvet  vest, 
and  broad  Panama  hat.  He  was  the  most  notable 
figure  among  the  group  of  specialists  that  gathered 
around  John  M.  Daniel,  editor  of  the  Richmond  Ex 
aminer.  Daniel  was  an  electric  battery,  fully  charged, 
whose  touches  shocked  the  staid  and  lofty -minded 
leaders  in  Virginia  politics.  There  was  about  him  that 
indefinable  charm  that  draws  men  of  genius  towards 
one  another,  though  differing  in  the  quality  and  mea 
sure  of  their  endowment.  There  was  Robert  W.  Hughes, 
with  his  strong  judicial  brain,  just  starting  on  his  path 
of  distinction.  There  was  Patrick  Henry  Aylett,  a  de 
scendant  of  the  great  orator,  and  a  rising  young  lawyer. 
There  was  Arthur  Petticolas,  who  had  an  aesthetic 
touch  that  gave  his  dissertations  on  Art  a  special 
charm  and  value.  The  Examiner  under  Daniel  was 
a  free  lance:  it  made  things  lively  for  all  sorts  of 
readers. 

"  Mr.  Poe  naturally  found  his  way  thereto  as  literary 
editor.  He  had  already  attained  celebrity  as  a  writer 
whose  prose  and  poetry  were  unlike  those  of  all  other 
persons.  The  reading  public  was  watching  him  expect 
antly,  looking  for  greater  things.  There  was  about  him 
something  that  drew  especial  notice.  His  face  was  one 
of  the  saddest  ever  seen.  His  step  was  gentle,  his  voice 
soft,  yet  clear;  his  presence  altogether  winning.  Though 
unlike  in  most  particulars,  Poe  and  Daniel  affiliated  in 


Ixxviii  MEMOIR 

dealing  with  a  world  in  which  sin  and  folly  on  the  one 
hand  provoked  their  wrath  and  scorn,  and  on  the  other 
appealed  to  their  pity  and  helpfulness. 

"That  Mr.  Poe  was  battling  with  tragic  threatenings 
at  this  time,  now  seems  pretty  clear.  The  literary  public 
of  Richmond  knew  enough  of  him  to  elicit  a  profound 
interest  in  his  behalf.  They  wished  to  express  their 
good  will  and  invited  him  to  deliver  a  lecture.  The 
whole  transaction  was  unique  and  gave  a  touch  of  the 
Old  South.  The  lecture  was  delivered,  and  by  special 
request  the  lecturer  then  and  there  recited  his  own 
poem,  'The  Raven/  the  remembrance  of  which  is  a 
pleasure  to  one  of  his  hearers  —  unto  this  day." 

Judge  Hughes  and  others  of  the  Examiner  have  also 
told  of  his  work  done  in  that  office.  He  sent  many  of 
his  best  known  poems  revised  into  the  composing  room, 
where  they  were  typeset  for  future  use,  but  only  "The 
Raven"  and  "Dream-Land"  appeared.  The  others, 
however,  were  preserved  in  proof  sheets  and  used  by 
F.  W.  Thomas,  who  was  afterwards  connected  with  the 
Richmond  Enquirer  as  literary  editor,  to  prepare  a  new 
edition  of  Poe's  poems.  These  are  now  published  for 
the  first  time. 

After  his  first  lecture  Poe  went  to  Norfolk,  Virginia. 
Miss  Susan  Ingram  in  the  New  York  Herald  of  February 
19,  1905,  tells  of  meeting  him  with  a  Virginia  party  at 
Old  Point  Comfort,  Sunday,  September  9,  She  said:  — 

"That  Sunday  evening  in  early  September  at  Old 
Point  stands  out  like  a  lovely  picture.  I  cannot  describe 
it  fitly.  There  was  more  in  it  than  may  be  expressed  in 
mere  words.  There  were  several  of  us  girls,  all  friends, 
and  all  of  us  knew  Mr.  Poe.  I  can  see  just  how  we 
looked,  sitting  about  there  in  our  white  dresses.  There 


MEMOIR  IXXIX 

was  a  young  collegian,  too,  who  was  my  particular 
friend.  He  is  gone  long  years  since,  and  all  the  others 
in  that  little  group  have  passed  away  except  Sister  and 
myself. 

"Mr.  Poe  sat  there  in  that  quiet  way  of  his  which 
made  you  feel  his  presence.  After  a  while  my  aunt, 
who  was  nearer  his  age,  said:  'This  seems  to  be  just  the 
time  and  place  for  poetry,  Mr.  Poe.'  And  it  was.  We 
all  felt  it.  The  old  Hygeia  stood  some  distance  from  the 
water,  but  with  nothing  between  it  and  the  ocean.  It 
was  moonlight,  and  the  light  shone  over  everything 
with  that  undimmed  light  that  it  has  in  the  South. 
There  were  many  persons  on  the  long  verandas  that 
surrounded  the  hotel,  but  they  seemed  remote  and  far 
away.  Our  little  party  was  absolutely  cut  off  from 
everything  except  that  lovely  view  of  the  water  shining 
in  the  moonlight,  and  its  gentle  music  borne  to  us  on 
the  soft  breeze.  Poe  felt  the  influence.  How  could  a 
poet  help  it?  And  when  we  seconded  the  request  that 
he  recite  for  us  he  agreed  readily.  He  recited  'The 
Raven/  'Annabel  Lee,'  and  last  of  all  'Ulalume,'  with 
the  last  stanza  of  which  he  remarked  that  he  feared  it 
might  not  be  intelligible  to  us,  as  it  was  scarcely  clear 
to  himself,  and  for  that  reason  it  had  not  been  pub 
lished  (sic).  The  next  day  he  sent  a  copy  of  the  poem 
with  a  letter. 

"  We  went  from  Old  Point  Comfort  to  our  home  near 
Norfolk,  and  he  called  on  us  there,  and  again  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  talking  with  him.  Although  I  was  only  a 
slip  of  a  girl  and  he  what  then  seemed  to  me  quite  an 
old  man,  and  a  great  literary  one  at  that,  we  got  on 
together  beautifully.  He  was  one  of  the  most  courteous 
gentlemen  I  have  ever  seen,  and  that  gave  a  great 


1XXX  MEMOIR 

charm  to  his  manner.  None  of  his  pictures  that  I  have 
ever  seen  look  like  the  picture  of  Poe  that  I  keep  in  my 
memory.  Of  course  they  look  like  him,  so  that  any  one 
seeing  them  could  have  recognized  him  from  them,  but 
there  was  something  in  his  face  that  is  in  none  of  them. 
Perhaps  it  was  in  the  eyes,  perhaps  in  the  mouth.  I  do 
not  know,  but  any  one  who  ever  met  him  would  under 
stand  what  I  mean. 

"There  were  no  indications  of  dissipation  apparent 
when  we  saw  Poe  in  Virginia  at  that  time.  I  think  he 
had  not  been  drinking  for  a  long  time.  If  I  had  not 
heard  or  read  what  had  been  said  about  his  intem 
perance  I  should  never  have  had  any  idea  of  it  from 
what  I  saw  in  Poe.  To  me  he  seemed  a  good  man,  as 
well  as  a  charming  one,  very  sensitive  and  very  high- 
minded. 

"I  remember  one  little  incident  that  illustrates  how 
loyal  he  was  to  the  memory  of  those  who  had  been  kind 
to  him.  I  was  fond  of  orris  root,  and  always  had  the 
odor  of  it  about  my  clothes.  One  day  when  we  were 
walking  together  he  spoke  of  it.  'I  like  it,  too/  he  said. 
'  Do  you  know  what  it  makes  me  think  of  ?  My  adopted 
mother.  Whenever  the  bureau  drawers  in  her  room 
were  opened  there  came  from  them  a  whiff  of  orris  root, 
and  ever  since  when  I  smell  it  I  go  back  to  the  time 
when  I  was  a  little  boy,  and  it  brings  back  thoughts  of 
my  mother.' " 

Poe  lectured  in  the  Norfolk  Academy  on  the  "  Poetic 
Principle"  Friday,  September  14,  and  it  was  noticed 
in  the  American  Beacon  of  that  city.  He  returned  to 
Richmond,  where  he  lectured  again  on  the  same  subject 
September  24,  which  was  his  last  public  appearance. 
During  this  visit  Poe  made  many  social  calls,  often  in 


MEMOIR  IxXXl 

the  company  of  his  sister  Rosalie,  who  still  resided  in 
Richmond.  He  visited  the  Bernards,  relatives  of  White 
of  the  Messenger;  the  Strobias,  who  were  old  church 
friends  of  the  first  Mrs.  Allan  as  well  as  the  Poitiaux 
family.  His  child -love  Miss  Poitiaux  was  alive,  and 
she  has  left  her  statement  of  this  last  visit.  She  pub 
lished  some  lines  on  the  death  of  Poe  in  Richmond  in 
August,  1852,  with  the  following  introduction :  — 

"The  writer  of  these  lines  was  in  early  life  a  playmate 
of  the  unfortunate  Edgar  A.  Poe,  and  the  god-daughter 
of  the  lady  by  whom  he  was  adopted.  He  even  then  gave 
promise  of  the  talent  which  has  since  made  his  name 
one  long  to  be  remembered  as  a  writer  —  I  will  not  say 
unequaled,  but  not  surpassed  by  any  poet  of  his  time. 
Some  few  weeks  preceding  his  sorrowful  demise  he 
visited  our  city  and  read  before  the  public  his  'Raven,' 
and  others  of  his  own  and  Hood's  beautiful  verses.  I 
was  at  that  time  too  unwell  to  venture  out,  and  did  not 
hear  him,  but  a  few  days  afterwards  he  called  on  me. 
His  unfortunate  propensity  had  made  us  refuse  to  see 
him  on  a  former  occasion,  but  this  time  he  unexpectedly 
entered  the  room  in  which  I  was  sitting,  saying  as  I 
rose  to  meet  him:  'Old  friend,  you  see  I  would  not 
be  denied.'  He  only  stayed  a  few  minutes,  but  in  that 
short  time  left  an  impression  on  my  memory  which  has 
never  since  been  effaced.  He  was  to  be  married  in  a 
few  weeks  to  a  lady  of  our  city,  and  as  he  stood  upon 
the  steps  bidding  me  farewell,  I  asked,  alluding  to  his 
marriage,  when  I  should  see  him  again.  It  was  no  fancy, 
but  a  strange  reality,  that  a  gray  shadow  such  as  I  had 
never  seen  before,  save  on  the  face  of  the  dying,  passed 
across  his  as,  gazing  gravely  in  mine,  he  answered 
slowly:  'In  the  words  of  my  Raven,  perhaps  —  never- 


Ixxxii  MEMOIR 

more,'  and  in  a  moment  he  had  gone.  In  a  few  weeks 
I  heard  the  tidings  of  his  death." 

Poe  also  made  a  visit  to  his  dear  friend,  as  he  called 
Eliza  Lambert,  the  sister  of  General  Lambert,  once 
Mayor  of  Richmond  and  a  near  relation  of  the  Strobias. 
There  were  other  friends  of  his  early  days  there,  and, 
as  he  wrote  in  one  of  his  last  letters  to  Mrs.  Clemm,  he 
remained  until  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  talking  of 
the  olden  times.  He  also  visited  the  family  of  W.  A.  R. 
Nye,  connected  with  the  Whig,  who  were  friends  of  long 
standing.  Much  more  of  his  time  was  spent  with  Mrs. 
Shelton,  his  early  love,  to  whom  he  was  again  engaged 
to  be  married.  She  was  seen  with  him  at  church  and 
at  his  lectures,  and  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Clemm  that  all 
was  in  readiness  for  the  marriage.  In  the  same  letter 
he  showed  distress  of  mind  about  "Annie"  and  wished 
to  be  near  her.  Mrs.  Shelton  has  left  her  recollections 
of  Poe,  which  are  supposed  to  be  in  the  Valentine 
Museum,  Richmond.  They  are  not  thought  to  differ 
materially  from  her  other  statements.  She  gave  a 
pleasing  description  of  Poe  in  his  youthful  days  calling 
to  see  her  in  company  with  Burling,  and  how  he  met 
and  begged  her  to  marry  him  in  1849.  He  visited  her 
the  night  before  he  left  Richmond  for  Baltimore,  when 
he  complained  of  feeling  ill.  Richmond's  oldest  book- 
dealer,  J.  W.  Randolph,  remembered  Poe.  He  told  me 
that  in  those  days  he  had  Sanxey's  old  book-stand. 
Poe  was  a  good  customer  of  Sanxey's  in  olden  times. 
He  had  been  coming  in  quietly  and  looking  about 
Randolph's  shop,  and  now  and  then  buying  a  magazine. 
"Look  here,"  he  said  one  day;  '""it  makes  me  sad  to 
come  in  here  and  not  see  Sanxey.  When  did  he  die?" 
Randolph  explained  that  Sanxey  was  not  dead,  but 


MEMOIR  Ixxxiii 

had  sold  out.  Poe  went  to  hunt  him  up,  and  returning 
to  the  store  a  few  days  afterwards,  told  of  a  pleasant 
meeting  with  his  former  old  book  friend. 

In  order  to  wind  up  his  affairs  before  his  marriage, 
arranged  for  October  17,  he  made  preparations  to  visit 
the  North.  He  had  a  commission  to  edit  a  volume  of 
poems  in  Philadelphia,  and  told  Daniel  that  he  would 
publish  his  own  writings  while  away.  After  leaving 
Mrs.  Shelton's  on  the  evening  of  September  26,  he 
went  to  Sadler's  restaurant,  where  he  met  J.  M.  Blakey 
and  other  friends.  Both  Sadler  and  Blakey  told  Judge 
Hughes  that  they  remembered  meeting  Poe  at  the  res 
taurant  that  night,  and  did  not  think  that  he  was  drink 
ing.  They  were  quite  certain  that  he  was  sober  when 
they  saw  him  last,  and  talking  of  going  North.  He 
left  for  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia  early  the  follow 
ing  morning.  As  he  steamed  down  the  James  River 
thoughts  of  his  former  journey  more  than  twenty-two 
years  before  must  have  flashed  across  his  memory,  as 
well  as  the  many  other  strange  vicissitudes  through 
which  he  had  passed  since  his  boyhood  swims  in  the 
same  waters. 

He  had  been  wandering  about  Baltimore  for  some 
days  when  he  was  found,  Wednesday,  October  3,  in  an 
unconscious  condition,  near  Ryan's  Fourth  Ward  Polls. 
He  was  taken  to  the  Washington  Hospital,  where  he 
died  October  7,  1849. 

A  notice  of  Poe's  death  was  printed  in  the  Richmond 
Whig  of  October  9,  as  follows:  "It  is  with  profound 
grief  that  we  give  place  this  morning  to  the  painful 
intelligence  which  will  be  read  below.  The  sad  an 
nouncement  was  received  in  yesterday's  evening  mail. 
When  we  reflect  that  it  was  but  the  other  day  that  the 


MEMOIR 

deceased  was  delighting  our  citizens  with  a  lecture  as 
beautiful  as  his  own  genius  was  powerful  and  erratic  — 
that  he  was  walking  in  our  streets  in  the  vigor  of  man 
hood  and  mingling  with  acquaintances  in  the  sociability 
of  friendship  —  we  would  fain  believe  that  it  was  un 
true.  The  news  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Poe  will  fall  with  a 
heavy  and  crushing  weight  upon  one  in  this  city  who 
is  related  to  him  by  the  tender  tie  of  sister;  and  who 
can  hardly  have  any  previous  knowledge  of  his  illness; 
whilst  it  will  be  read  with  profound  regret  by  all  who 
appreciate  generous  qualities  or  admire  genius.  In  the 
beautiful  language  of  his  own  'Lenore/  let  there  be  a 
requiem  for  the  dead  —  in  that  he  died  so  young." 

Poe  was  buried  in  the  churchyard  of  the  Westminster 
Church  at  Baltimore.  Rev.  W.  T.  D.  Clemm  read  the 
services  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  There 
were  but  few  friends  and  relatives  present  at  the  sad 
rites.  After  his  death,  "Annabel  Lee"  was  published 
in  the  New  York  Tribune,  and  Sartain's  Union  Magazine 
for  November  contained  "The  Bells."  The  Messenger 
for  December  con  tamed  "To  my  Mother";  Graham's, 
January,  1850,  "Critics  and  Criticism";  followed  in 
October  by  the  "Poetic  Principle,"  published  in  Sar 
tain's  Union  Magazine.  In  the  Examiner  of  October  26, 
Daniel  announced:  "Edgar  Poe's  complete  works  are  to 
be  published  under  the  supervision  of  Willis  and  Lowell 
and  under  the  auspices  of  Rufus  Griswold.  O !  what  a 
triumvirate."  The  November  Messenger  published  a 
notice  of  Poe's  death,  in  which  the  following  letter  to 
Thompson  from  H.  W.  Longfellow  was  given:  — 

"What  a  melancholy  death  is  that  of  Mr.  Poe  —  a 
man  so  richly  endowed  with  genius !  I  never  knew  him 
personally,  but  have  always  entertained  a  high  appre- 


MEMOIR  1XXXV 

elation  of  his  powers  as  a  prose  writer  and  a  poet.  His 
prose  is  remarkably  vigorous,  direct  and  yet  affluent; 
and  his  verse  has  a  peculiar  charm  of  melody,  an  atmos 
phere  of  true  poetry  about  it,  which  is  very  winning. 
The  harshness  of  his  criticisms  I  have  never  attributed 
to  anything  but  the  irritation  of  a  sensitive  nature, 
chafed  by  some  indefinite  sense  of  wrong." 

Mrs.  Clemm  died  in  Baltimore  at  the  Church  Home, 
February  1 6, 1871.  This  was  the  same  building  in  which 
Poe  died.  She  was  buried  beside  Poe.  Rosalie  Poe  also 
became  a  subject  for  charity,  and  entered  the  Epiph 
any  Church  Home,  Washington,  where  she  died  in  July, 
1874,  at  the  age  of  sixty-four,  which  places  her  birth 
in  1810. 

All  that  was  mortal  of  Poe  rested  in  a  neglected  grave 
in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  Baltimore  Churchyard  until 
November  17,  1875,  when  a  monument  was  erected.  I 
was  present  at  the  services  of  dedication,  and  remember 
that  it  was  a  raw,  chilly,  and  bleak  November  day. 
Among  those  present  who  had  known  him  best  were 
J.  H.  Hewitt,  and  his  old  schoolmaster,  Professor 
Clarke;  also  Drs.  Brooks  and  Snodgrass.  A  number 
of  letters  and  poems  were  read.  Among  those  who 
sent  tributes  were  Mallarme*,  Swinburne,  Hayne,  Faw- 
cett,  Winter,  John  Neal,  Mrs.  Whitman,  Saxe,  Bryant, 
Longfellow,  Tennyson,  Whittier,  Lowell,  Aldrich,  and 
Holmes.  Swinburne  wrote:  "Widely  as  the  fame  of  Poe 
has  already  spread,  and  deeply  as  it  is  already  rooted 
in  Europe,  it  is  even  now  growing  wider  and  striking 
deeper  as  time  advances;  the  surest  presage  that  Tune, 
the  eternal  enemy  of  small  and  shallow  reputations, 
will  prove  in  this  case  also  the  constant  and  trusty 
friend  and  keeper  of  a  poet's  full-grown  fame." 


MEMOIR 

The  following  warm  tribute  was  from  O.  W.  Holmes: 
"No  one,  surely,  needs  a  mausoleum  less  than  the  poet. 

'His  monument  shall  be  his  gentle  verse, 
Which  eyes  not  yet  created  shall  o'erread; 

And  tongues  to  be,  his  being  shall  rehearse 
When  all  the  breathers  of  this  world  are  dead.' 

Yet  we  would  not  leave  him  without  a  stone  to  mark 
the  spot  where  the  hands  that  'waked  to  ecstasy  the 
living  lyre'  were  laid  in  dust.  He  that  can  confer  an 
immortality  which  will  outlast  bronze  and  granite  de 
serves  this  poor  tribute,  not  for  his  sake  so  much  as  ours. 
The  hearts  of  all  who  reverence  the  inspiration  of  genius, 
who  can  look  tenderly  upon  the  infirmities  too  often 
attending  it,  who  can  feel  for  its  misfortunes,  will  sym 
pathize  with  you  as  you  gather  around  the  resting-place 
of  all  that  was  mortal  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  and  raise  the 
stone  inscribed  with  one  of  the  few  names  which  will 
outlive  the  graven  record  meant  to  perpetuate  its 
remembrance." 


THE   RAVEN 

AND   OTHER   POEMS 


To  THE  NOBLEST  OF  HER  SEX  — 

To  THE  AUTHOR  OP 

"THE  DRAMA  OF  EXILE"— 

To  Miss  ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BARRETT, 

OF  ENGLAND, 

I  DEDICATE  THIS  VOLUME, 

WITH  THE  MOST  ENTHUSIASTIC  ADMIRATION 

AND  WITH  THE  MOST  SINCERE  ESTEEM. 

E.  A.  P. 


PREFACE  TO   THE   POEMS 
EDITION  OF  1845 

THESE  trifles  are  collected  and  republished  chiefly 
with  a  view  to  their  redemption  from  the  many  improve 
ments  to  which  they  have  been  subjected  while  going 
"the  rounds  of  the  press."  I  am  naturally  anxious 
that  if  what  I  have  written  is  to  circulate  at  all,  it 
should  circulate  as  I  wrote  it.  In  defence  of  my  own 
taste,  nevertheless,  it  is  incumbent  on  me  to  say  that 
I  think  nothing  in  this  volume  of  much  value  to  the 
public,  or  very  creditable  to  myself.  Events  not  to  be 
controlled  have  prevented  me  from  making,  at  any 
time,  any  serious  effort  in  what,  under  happier  circum 
stances,  would  have  been  the  field  of  my  choice.  With 
me  poetry  has  been  not  a  purpose,  but  a  passion;  and 
the  passions  should  be  held  in  reverence;  they  must 
not  —  they  cannot  at  will  be  excited,  with  an  eye  to 
the  paltry  compensations,  or  the  more  paltry  commen 
dations,  of  mankind. 

E.  A.  P. 

NOTE.  —  In  the  J.  Lorimer  Graham  copy,  Poe  struck  out  in  the 
third  line  after  going  "  at  random."  He  also  transposed  the  sen 
tence,  "If  what  I  have  written  is  to  circulate  at  all,  I  am  naturally 
anxious  that  it  should  circulate  as  I  wrote  it,"  to  read  as  above. 
The  word  "upon"  in  the  seventh  line  was  changed  to  "on";  a 
comma  after  "  say "  was  erased,  and  a  comma  inserted  after 
"excited." 


POEMS 

THE  RAVE?;  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  RAVEN 

ONCE  upon  a  midnight  dreary,  while  I  pondered,  weak 
and  weary, 

Over  many  a  quaint  and  curious  volume  of  forgotten 
lore  — 

While  I  nodded,  nearly  napping,  suddenly  there  came  a 
tapping, 

As  of  some  one  gently  rapping,  rapping  at  my  chamber 
door. 

"  'T  is  some  visiter,"  I  muttered, "  tapping  at  my  cham 
ber  door  — 
Only  this  and  nothing  more." 

Ah,  distinctly  I  remember  it  was  in  the  bleak  December; 
And  each  separate  dying  ember  wrought  its  ghost  upon 

the  floor. 
Eagerly  I  wished  the  morrow;  —  vainly  I  had  sought  to 

borrow 
From  my  books  surcease  of  sorrow  —  sorrow  for  the 

lost  Lenore  — 
For  the  rare  and  radiant  maiden  whom  the  angels  name 

Lenore  — 
Nameless  here  for  evermore. 


8      THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

And  the  silken,  sad,  uncertain  rustling  of  each  purple 
curtain 

Thrilled  me  —  filled  me  with  fantastic  terrors  never 
felt  before; 

So  that  now,  to  still  the  beating  of  my  heart,  I  stood  re 
peating 

"  'T  is  some  visiter  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber 
door  — 

Some  late  visiter  entreating  entrance  at  my  chamber 
door; — 
This  it  is  and  nothing  more." 

Presently  my  soul  grew  stronger;  hesitating  then  no 
longer, 

"Sir,"  said  I,  "or  Madam,  truly  your  forgiveness  I  im 
plore; 

But  the  fact  is  I  was  napping,  and  so  gently  you  came 
rapping, 

And  so  faintly  you  came  tapping,  tapping  at  my  chamber 
door, 

That  I  scarce  was  sure  I  heard  you"  —  here  I  opened 
wide  the  door;  — 

Darkness  there  and  nothing  more. 

Deep  into  that  darkness  peering,  long  I  stood  there  won 
dering,  fearing, 

Doubting,  dreaming  dreams  no  mortal  ever  dared  to 
dream  before; 

But  the  silence  was  unbroken,  and  the  stillness  gave  no 
token, 

And  the  only  word  there  spoken  was  the  whispered  word, 
"Lenore?" 


THE  RAVEN  Q 

This  I  whispered,  and  an  echo  murmured  back  the  word, 
"Lenore!" 
Merely  this  and  nothing  more. 

Back  into  the  chamber  turning,  all  my  soul  within  me 
burning, 

Soon  again  I  heard  a  tapping  somewhat  louder  than 
before. 

"Surely,"  said  I,  "surely  that  is  something  at  my  win 
dow  lattice; 

Let  me  see,  then,  what  thereat  is,  and  this  mystery 
explore  — , 

Let  my  heart  be  still  a  moment  and  this  mystery  ex 
plore;  — 

'T  is  the  wind  and  nothing  more!" 

Open  here  I  flung  the  shutter,  when,  with  many  a  flirt 

and  flutter, 
In  there  stepped  a  stately  Raven  of  the  saintly  days  of 

yore; 
Not  the  least  obeisance  made  he;  not  a  minute  stopped 

or  stayed  he; 
But,  with  mien  of  lord  or  lady,  perched  above  my 

chamber  door  — 
Perched  upon  a  bust  of  Pallas  just  above  my  chamber 

door  — 
Perched,  and  sat,  and  nothing  more. 

Then  this  ebony  bird  beguiling  my  sad  fancy  into  smiling, 
By  the  grave  and  stern  decorum  of  the  countenance  it 

wore, 

"  Though  thy  crest  be  shorn  and  shaven,  thou,"  I  said, 
/'art  sure  no  craven, 


10     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Ghastly  grim  and  ancient  Raven  wandering  from  the 
Nightly  shore  — 

Tell  me  what  thy  lordly  name  is  on  the  Night's  Plu 
tonian  shore!" 
Quoth  the  Raven  "Nevermore." 

Much  I  marvelled  this  ungainly  fowl  to  hear  discourse 
so  plainly, 

Though  its  answer  little  meaning — little  relevancy  bore; 

For  we  cannot  help  agreeing  that  no  living  human  being 

Ever  yet  was  blessed  with  seeing  bird  above  his  cham 
ber  door — 

Bird  or  beast  upon  the  sculptured  bust  above  his 
chamber  door, 
With  such  name  as  "Nevermore." 

But  the  Raven,  sitting  lonely  on  the  placid  bust,  spoke 

only 
That  one  word,  as  if  his  soul  in  that  one  word  he  did 

outpour. 
Nothing  farther  then  he  uttered  —  not  a  feather  then 

he  fluttered  — 
Till  I  scarcely  more  than  muttered  "Other  friends  have 

flown  before  — 
On  the  morrow  he  will  leave  me,  as  my  Hopes  have  flown 

before." 
Then  the  bird  said  "Nevermore." 

Startled  at  the  stillness  broken  by  reply  so  aptly  spoken, 
"Doubtless,"  said  I,  "what  it  utters  is  its  only  stock 

and  store 
Caught  from  some  unhappy  master  whom  unmerciful 

Disaster 


THE  RAVEN  It 

Followed  fast  and  followed  faster  till  his  songs  one  bur 
den  bore  — 

Till  the  dirges  of  his  Hope  that  melancholy  burden  bore 
Of  'Never  —  nevermore.' " 

But  the  Raven  still  beguiling  my  sad  fancy  into  smiling, 

Straight  I  wheeled  a  cushioned  seat  in  front  of  bird,  and   ? "? 
bust  and  door; 

Then,  upon  the  velvet  sinking,  I  betook  myself  to  link 
ing 

Fancy  unto  fancy,  thinking  what  this  ominous  bird  of 
yore  — 

What  this  grim,  ungainly,  ghastly,  gaunt,  and  ominous 
bird  of  yore 
Meant  in  croaking  "  Nevermore." 

This  I  sat  engaged  in  guessing,  but  no  syllable  express 
ing 

To  the  fowl  whose  fiery  eyes  now  burned  into  my 
bosom's  core; 

This  and  more  I  sat  divining,  with  my  head  at  ease  re- 
dining 

On  the  cushion's  velvet  lining  that  the  lamp-light 
gloated  o'er, 

But  whose  velvet-violet  lining  with  the  lamp-light 
gloating  o'er, 
She  shall  press,  ah,  nevermore! 

Then,  methought,  the  air  grew  denser,  perfumed  from 

an  unseen  censer 
Swung  by  seraphim  whose  foot-falls  tinkled  on  the  tufted 

floor. 
"Wretch,"  I  cried,  "thy  God  hath  lent  thee  —  by  these 

angels  he  hath  sent  thee      ;„ 


12     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Respite  —  respite  and  nepenthe  from  thy  memories  of 

Lenore; 
Quaff,  oh  quaff  this  kind  nepenthe  and  forget  this  lost 

Lenore!" 
Quoth  the  Raven  "Nevermore." 

"Prophet!"  said  I,  "thing  of  evil!  — prophet  still,  if 
bird  or  devil!  — 

Whether  Tempter  sent,  or  whether  tempest  tossed  thee 
here  ashore, 

Desolate  yet  all  undaunted,  on  this  desert  land  en 
chanted  — 

On  this  home  by  Horror  haunted  —  tell  me  truly,  I  im 
plore  —  i 

Is  there  —  is  there  balm  in  Gilead?  —  tell  me  —  tell 
me,  I  implore!" 

Quoth  the  Raven  "  Nevermore." 

"Prophet!"  said  I,  "thing  of  evil!  — prophet  still,  if 

bird  or  devil! 
By  that  Heaven  that  bends  above  us  —  by  that  God  we 

both  adore  — 
Tell  this  soul  with  sorrow  laden  if,  within  the  distant 

Aidenn, 
It  shall  clasp  a  sainted  maiden  whom  the  angels  name 

Lenore  — 
Clasp  a  rare  and  radiant  maiden  whom  the  angels  name 

Lenore." 
Quoth  the  Raven  "  Nevermore." 

"Be  that  word  our  sign  of  parting,  bird  or  fiend!"  I 
shrieked,  upstarting  —  > 

"Get  thee  back  into  the  tempest  and  the  Night's 
Plutonian  shore! 


THE  RAVEN  13 

Leave  no  black  plume  as  a  token  of  that  lie  thy  soul 

hath  spoken! 
Leave  my  loneliness  unbroken!  —  quit  the  bust  above 

my  door! 
Take  thy  beak  from  out  my  heart,  and  take  thy  form 

from  off  my  door!" 
Quoth  the  Raven  "  Nevermore." 

And  the  Raven,  never  flitting,  still  is  sitting,  still  is  sit 
ting 

On  the  pallid  bust  of  Pallas  just  above  my  chamber 
door; 

And  his  eyes  have  all  the  seeming  of  a  demon's  that  is 
dreaming, 

And  the  lamp-light  o'er  him  streaming  throws  his 
shadow  on  the  floor; 

And  my  soul  from  out  that  shadow  that  lies  floating  on 
the  floor 
Shall  be  lifted  —  nevermore  1 


THE  VALLEY  OF  UNREST 

ONCE  it  smiled  a  silent  dell 

Where  the  people  did  not  dwell; 

They  had  gone  unto  the  wars, 

Trusting  to  the  mild-eyed  stars,  t 

Nightly,  from  their  azure  towers, 

To  keep  watch  above  the  flowers, 

In  the  midst  of  which  all  day 

The  red  sun-light  lazily  lay. 

Now  each  visiter  shall  confess 

The  sad  valley's  restlessness. 

Nothing  there  is  motionless  — 

Nothing  save  the  airs  that  brood 

Over  the  magic  solitude. 

Ah,  by  no  wind  are  stirred  those  trees 

That  palpitate  like  the  chill  seas 

Around  the  misty  Hebrides! 

Ah,  by  no  wind  those  clouds  are  driven 

That  rustle  through  the  unquiet  Heaven 

Uneasily,  from  morn  till  even, 

Over  the  violets  there  that  lie 

In  myriad  types  of  the  human  eye  — 

Over  the  lilies  there  that  wave 

And  weep  above  a  nameless  grave! 

They  wave:  —  from  out  their  fragrant  tops 

Eternal  dews  come  down  in  drops. 

They  weep:  —  from  off  their  delicate  stems 

Perennial  tears  descend  in  gems. 


BRIDAL  BALLAD 

THE  ring  is  on  my  hand, 
And  the  wreath  is  on  my  brow; 

Satins  and  jewels  grand 

Are  all  at  my  command, 
And  I  am  happy  now. 

And  my  lord  he  loves  me  well; 

But,  when  first  he  breathed  his  vowf 
I  felt  my  bosom  swell  — 
For  the  words  rang  as  a  knell, 
And  the  voice  seemed  his  who  fell 
In  the  battle  down  the  dell, 

And  who  is  happy  now. 

But  he  spoke  to  re-assure  me, 

And  he  kissed  my  pallid  brow, 
While  a  reverie  came  o'er  me, 
And  to  the  church-yard  bore  me, 
And  I  sighed  to  him  before  me, 
(Thinking  him  dead  D'Elormie,) 
"Oh,  I  am  happy  now!" 

And  thus  the  words  were  spoken; 

And  this  the  plighted  vow; 
And,  though  my  faith  be  broken, 
And,  though  my  heart  be  broken, 
Here  is  a  ring,  as  token 

That  I  am  happy  now!  — 
Behold  the  golden  token 

That  proves  me  happy  now! 


l6     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Would  God  I  could  awaken! 

For  I  dream  I  know  not  how, ' 
And  my  soul  is  sorely  shaken 
Lest  an  evil  step  be  taken,  — 
Lest  the  dead  who  is  forsaken 

May  not  be  happy  now. 


THE  SLEEPER 

AT  midnight,  in  the  month  of  June, 
I  stand  beneath  the  mystic  moon. 
An  opiate  vapor,  dewy,  dim, 
Exhales  from  out  her  golden  rim, 
And,  softly  dripping,  drop  by  drop, 
Upon  the  quiet  mountain  top, 
Steals  drowsily  and  musically 
Into  the  universal  valley. 
The  rosemary  nods  upon  the  grave; 
The  lily  lolls  upon  the  wave; 
Wrapping  the  fog  about  its  breast, 
The  ruin  moulders  into  rest; 
Looking  like  Lethe,  see!  the  lake 
A  conscious  slumber  seems  to  take, 
And  would  not,  for  the  world,  awake. 
All  Beauty  sleeps!  —  and  lo!  where  lies 
Irene,  with  her  Destinies! 

Oh,  lady  bright!  can  it  be  right  — 
This  window  open  to  the  night? 
The  wanton  airs,  from  the  tree-top, 
Laughingly  through  the  lattice  drop  — 
The  bodiless  airs,  a  wizard  rout, 
Flit  through  thy  chamber  in  and  out, 
And  wave  the  curtain  canopy 
So  fitfully  —  so  fearfully  — 
Above  the  closed  and  fringed  lid 
'Neath  which  thy  slumb'ring  soul  lies  hid, 
That,  o'er  the  floor  and  down  the  wall, 
Like  ghosts  the  shadows  rise  and  fall!  ' 


l8     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Oh,  lady  dear,  hast  thou  no  fear? 
i Why  and  what  art  thou  dreaming  here?; 
Sure  thou  art  come  o'er  far-off  seas, 
A  wonder  to  these  garden  trees! 
Strange  is  thy  pallor!  strange  thy  dress  I 
Strange,  above  all,  thy  length  of  tress, 
And  this  all  solemn  silentness! 


The  lady  sleeps!  Oh,  may  her  sleep, 
Which  is  enduring,  so  be  deep! 
Heaven  have  her  in  its  sacred  keep! 
This  chamber  changed  for  one  more  holy, 
This  bed  for  one  more  melancholy, 
I  pray  to  God  that  she  may  lie 
Forever  with  unopened  eye, 
While  the  pale  sheeted  ghosts  go  by! 

My  love,  sfe;  sleeps!  Oh,  may  her  sleep, 
As  it  is  lasting,  so  be  deep! 
Soft  may  the  worms  about  her  creep  1 
Far  in  the  forest,  dim  and  old, 
For  her  may  some  tall  vault  unfold  — f 
Some  vault  that  oft  hath  flung  its  black 
And  winged  panels  fluttering  back, 
Triumphant,  o'er  the  crested  palls, 
Of  her  grand  family  funerals  — • 
Some  sepulchre,  remote,  alone, 
Against  whose  portal  she  hath  thrown, 
In  childhood,  many  an  idle  stone  —  X' 
Some  tomb  from  out  whose  sounding  door 
She  ne'er  shall  force  an  echo  more, 
Thrilling  to  think,  poor  child  of  sin! 
It  was  the  dead  who  groaned  within. 


THE  COLISEUM 

TYPE  of  the  antique  Rome!  Rich  reliquary 
Of  lofty  contemplation  left  to  Time 
By  buried  centuries  of  pomp  and  power! 
At  length  —  at  length  —  after  so  many  days 
Of  weary  pilgrimage  and  burning  thirst, 
(Thirst  for  the  springs  of  lore  that  in  thee  lie,) 
I  kneel,  an  altered  and  an  humble  man, 
Amid  thy  shadows,  and  so  drink  within  » 

My  very  soul  thy  grandeur,  gloom,  and  glory! 

Vastness!  and  Age!  and  Memories  of  Eld! 
Silence!  and  Desolation!  and  dim  Night! 
I  feel  ye  now  —  I  feel  ye  in  your  strength — 
O  spells  more  sure  than  e'er  Judaean  king 
Taught  in  the  gardens  of  Gethsemane! 
O  charms  more  potent  than  the  rapt  Chaldee 
Ever  drew  down  from  out  the  quiet  stars  I 

Here,  where  a  hero  fell,  a  column  falls! 

Here,  where  the  mimic  eagle  glared  in  gold, 

A  midnight  vigil  holds  the  swarthy  bat! 

Here,  where  the  dames  of  Rome  their  gilded  hair 

Waved  to  the  wind,  now  wave  the  reed  and  thistle! 

Here,  where  on  golden  throne  the  monarch  lolled, 

Glides,  spectre-like,  unto  his  marble  home, 

Lit  by  the  wan  light  of  the  horned  moon, 

The  swift  and  silent  lizard  of  the  stones  1 


20     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

But  stay!  these  walls  —  these  ivy-clad  arcades  — 
These  mouldering  plinths  —  these  sad  and  blackened 

shafts  — 

These  vague  entablatures  —  this  crumbling  frieze  —   -\ 
These  shattered  cornices  —  this  wreck  —  this  ruin  — 
These  stones  —  alas !  these  gray  stones  —  are  they  all — 
All  of  the  famed,  and  the  colossal  left 
Sy  the  corrosive  Hours  to  Fate  and  me? 

"Not  all"  —  the  Echoes  answer  me  —  "not  all! 
"Prophetic  sounds  and  loud,  arise  forever  • 
"From  us,  and  from  all  Ruin,  unto  the  wise, 
"As  melody  from  Memnon  to  the  Sun. 
"We  rule  the  hearts  of  mightiest  men  —  we  rule 
"With  a  despotic  sway  all  giant  minds. 
"We  are  not  impotent  —  we  pallid  stones. 
"Not  all  our  power  is  gone  —  not  all  our  fame  — 
"Not  all  the  magic  of  our  high  renown  — 
"Not  all  the  wonder  that  encircles  us  — 
"Not  all  the  mysteries  that  in  us  lie  —  * 
"Not  all  the  memories  that  hang  upon 
"And  cling  around  about  us  as  a  garment,  • 
"Clothing  us  in  a  robe  of  more  than  glory." 


LENORE 

AH,  broken  is  the  golden  bowl!  —  the  spirit  flown  for 

ever! 
Let  the  bell  toll!  —  a  saintly  soul  floats  on  the  Stygian 

river:  — 
And,  Guy  De  Vere,  hast  thou  no  tear?  —  weep  now  or 

never  more! 
See!  on  yon  drear  and  rigid  bier  low  lies  thy  love, 

Lenore! 
Come,  let  the  burial  rite  be  read  —  the  funeral  song  be 

sung! — 
An  anthem  for  the  queenliest  dead  that  ever  died  so 

young  — 
A  dirge  for  her  the  doubly  dead  in  that  she  died  so 

young. 

"  Wretches !  ye  loved  her  for  her  wealth  and  ye  hated  her 
for  her  pride;  ' 

And,  when  she  fell  in  feeble  health,  ye  blessed  her  — 
that  she  died:  — 

How  shall  the  ritual  then  be  read  —  the  requiem  how  be 
sung 

By  you  —  by  yours,  the  evil  eye  —  by  yours  the  slan 
derous  tongue 

That  did  to  death  the  innocence  that  died  and  died  so 
young?" 

Peccavimus:  —  yet  rave  not  thus!  but  let  a  Sabbath 

song 
Go  up  to  God  so  solemnly  the  dead  may  feel  no  wrong  I 


^22     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

'  The  sweet  Lenore  hath  gone  before,  with  Hope  that 

^  flew  beside, 
Leaving  thee  wild  for  the  dear  child  that  should  have 

'  been  thy  bride  — 

For  her,  the  fair  and  debonair,  that  now  so  lowly  lies, 
The  life  upon  her  yellow  hair,  but  not  within  her  eyes  — 
(    The  life  still  there  upon  her  hair,  the  death  upon  her 
Y  (,**-     eyes. 

"Avaunt! —  avaunt!  to  friends  from  fiends  the  in 
dignant  ghost  is  riven  — 
From  Hell  unto  a  high  estate  within  the  utmost 

Heaven  — 
From  moan  and  groan  to  a  golden  throne  beside  the 

King  of  Heaven:  — 
Let  no  bell  toll,  then,  lest  her  soul,  amid  its  hallowed 

mirth, 
Should  catch  the  note  as  it  doth  float  up  from  the 

damned  Earth! 
And  I  —  to-night  my  heart  is  light:  —  no  dirge  will  I 

upraise, 
But  waft  the  angel  on  her  flight  with  a  paean  of  old 

days!" 


- 


HYMN 

Ax  morn  —  at  noon  —  at  twilight  dim  • 
Maria!  thou  hast  heard  my  hymn! 
In  joy  and  wo  —  in  good  and  ill  — 
Mother  of  God,  be  with  me  still!  , 
When  the  Hours  flew  brightly  by, 
And  not  a  cloud  obscured  the  sky, 
My  soul,  lest  it  should  truant  be, 
Thy  grace  did  guide  to  thine  and  thee; 
Now,  when  storms  of  Fate  o'ercast 
Darkly  my  Present  and  my  Past, 
Let  my  Future  radiant  shine 
With  sweet  hopes  of  thee  and  thinel 


ISRAFEL1 

IN  Heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 

"Whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute;" 

None  sing  so  wildly  well 

As  the  angel  Israfel, 

And  the  giddy  stars,  (so  legends  tell) 

Ceasing  their  hymns,  attend  the  spell 
Of  his  voice,  all  mute. 

Tottering  above 

In  her  highest  noon, 

The  enamoured  Moon 
Blushes  with  love, 

While,  to  listen,  the  red  levin 

(With  the  rapid  Pleiads,  even, 

Which  were  seven,) 

Pauses  hi  Heaven. 

And  they  say,  (the  starry  choir 
And  the  other  listening  things) 

That  Israfeli's  fire' 

Is  owing  to  that  lyre 

By  which  he  sits  and  sings  — 

The  trembling  living  wire 

Of  those  unusual  strings. 

But  the  skies  that  angel  trod, 

Where  deep  thoughts  are  a  duty  — 
Where  Love's  a  grown-up  god  — 

1  And  the  angel  Israfel,  whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute,  and  who 
has  the  sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures.  —  Koran. 


ISRAFEL  25 

Where  the  Houri  glances  are 
Imbued  with  all  the  beauty 

Which  we  worship  in  a  star. 

Therefore,  thou  art  not  wrong, 

Israfeli,  who  despisest 
An  unimpassioned  song; 
To  thee  the  laurels  belong, 

Best  bard,  because  the  wisest! 
Merrily  live,  and  long! 

The  ecstasies  above 

With  thy  burning  measures  suit  — •, 
.Thy  grief,  thy  joy,  thy  hate,  thy  love, 

With  the  fervor  of  thy  lute  — 

Well  may  the  stars  be  mute! 

Yes,  Heaven  is  thine;  but  this 

Is  a  world  of  sweets  and  sours; 

Our  flowers  are  merely  —  flowers, 
And  the  shadow  of  thy  perfect  bliss, 

Is  the  sunshine  of  ours. 

If  I  could  dwell 
Where  Israf  el 

Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 
He  might  not  sing  so  wildly  well 

A  mortal  melody, 
While  a  bolder  note  than  this  might  swefl 

From  my  lyre  within  the  sky. 


DREAM-LAND 

BY  a  route  obscure  and  lonely, 
Haunted  by  ill  angels  only, 
Where  an  Eidolon,  named  NIGHT, 
On  a  black  throne  reigns  upright, 
J  have  reached  these  lands  but  newly 
From  an  ultimate  dim  Thule  — 
From  a  wild  weird  clime  that  lieth,  sublime, 
Out  of  Space  —  out  of  Time. 

Bottomless  vales  and  boundless  floods, 
And  chasms,  and  caves,  and  Titan  woods, 
With  forms  that  no  man  can  discover. 
For  the  dews  that  drip  all  over; 
Mountains  toppling  evermore 
Into  seas  without  a  shore; 
Seas  that  restlessly  aspire, 
Surging,  unto  skies  of  fire; 
Lakes  that  endlessly  outspread 
Their  lone  waters  —  lone  and  dead,  — 
Their  still  waters  —  still  and  chilly 
,  With  the  snows  of  the  lolling  lily. 

By  the  lakes  that  thus  outspread 
Their  lone  waters,  lone  and  dead,  — 
Their  sad  waters,  sad  and  chilly 
With  the  snows  of  the  lolling  lily,  — 
By  the  mountains  —  near  the  river 
Murmuring  lowly,  murmuring  ever,  — 


DREAM-LAND  27 

By  the  grey  woods,  —  by  the  swamp 
Where  the  toad  and  the  newt  encamp,  — 
By  the  dismal  tarns  and  pools 

Where  dwell  the  ghouls,  — 
By  each  spot  the  most  unholy  — 
In  each  nook  most  melancholy,  — 
There  the  traveller  meets  aghast 
Sheeted  Memories  of  the  Past  — 
Shrouded  forms  that  start  and  sigh 
As  they  pass  the  wanderer  by  — 
White-robed  forms  of  friends  long  given, 
In  agony,  to  the  Earth  —  and  Heaven. 

For  the  heart  whose  woes  are  legion 
'T  is  a  peaceful,  soothing  region  — 
For  the  spirit  that  walks  in  shadow 
O!  it  is  an  Eldorado! 
1  But  the  traveller,  travelling  through  it, 
May  not  —  dare  not  openly  view  it; 
Never  its  mysteries  are  exposed 
To  the  weak  human  eye  unclosed; 
So  wills  its  King,  who  hath  forbid 
The  uplifting  of  the  fringed  lid; 
And  thus  the  sad  Soul  that  here  passes 
Beholds  it  but  through  darkened  glasses. 
By  a  route  obscure  and  lonely, 
Haunted  by  ill  angels  only, 
Where  an  Eidolon,  named  NIGHT, 
On  a  black  throne  reigns  upright, 
I  have  wandered  home  but  newly 
From  this  ultimate  dim  Thule. 


SONNET  — TO  ZANTE 

FAIR  isle,  that  from  the  fairest  of  all  flowers, 

Thy  gentlest  of  all  gentle  names  dost  take! 
How  many  memories  of  what  radiant  hours 

At  sight  of  thee  and  thine  at  once  awake! 
How  many  scenes  of  what  departed  bliss! 

How  many  thoughts  of  what  entombed  hopes! 
How  many  visions  of  a  maiden  that  is 

No  more  —  no  more  upon  thy  verdant  slopes! 
No  more!  alas,  that  magical  sad  sound 

Transforming  all !  Thy  charms  shall  please  no  more  • 
Thy  memory  no  more!  Accursed  ground 

Henceforth  I  hold  thy  flower-enamelled  shore, 
O  hyatinthine  isle!  0  purple  Zante! 
-  "Isolad'oro!  Fior  di  Levantei" 


THE  CITY  IN  THE  SEA 

,  Lo!  Death  has  reared  himself  a  throne  l\ 
In  a  strange  city  lying  alone 
Far  down  within  the  dim  West, 
Where  the  good  and  the  bad  and  the  worst  and 

the  best 

Have  gone  to  their  eternal  rest. 
There  shrines  and  palaces  and  towers 
(Time-eaten  towers  that  tremble  not!) 
Resemble  nothing  that  is  ours. 
Around,  by  lifting  winds  forgot, 
Resignedly  beneath  the  sky 
The  melancholy  waters  lie. 

No  rays  from  the  holy  heaven  come  down 
On  the  long  night-time  of  that  town; 
But  light  from  out  the  lurid  sea 
j  Streams  up  the  turrets  silently  — 
Gleams  up  the  pinnacles  far  and  free  — 
Up  domes  —  up  spires  —  up  kingly  halls  — 
Up  fanes  —  up  Babylon-like  walls  — 
Up  shadowy  long-forgotten  bowers 
Of  sculptured  ivy  and  stone  flowers  — 
Up  many  and  many  a  marvellous  shrine 
Whose  wreathed  friezes  intertwine 
The  viol,  the  violet,  and  the  vine. ' 
Resignedly  beneath  the  sky 
The  melancholy  waters  lie. 
So  blend  the  turrets  and  shadows  there 
That  all  seem  pendulous  in  air, 


3O     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

^While  from  a  proud  tower  in  the  town 
|  Death  looks  gigantically  down. 
*^There  open  fanes  and  gaping  graves 

Yawn  level  with  the  luminous  waves; 

But  not  the  riches  there  that  lie 

In  each  idol's  diamond  eye  — 
,.Not  the  gayly-jeweled  dead         ^ 
LTempt  the  waters  from  their  bed; 
,,  For  no  ripples  curl,  alas! 

Along  that  wilderness  of  glass  — 

No  swellings  tell  that  winds  may  be 

Upon  some  far-off  happier  sea  — 

No  heavings  hint  that  winds  have  been 

On  seas  less  hideously  serene. 

But  lo,  a  stir  is  in  the  air! 
The  wave  —  there  is  a  movement  there!  U 
As  if  the  towers  had  thrust  aside, 
In  slightly  sinking,  the  dull  tide  — 
As  if  their  tops  had  feebly  given 
A  void  within  the  filmy  Heaven. 
The  waves  have  now  a  redder  glow  — 
The  hours  are  breathing  faint  and  low  — •** 
And  when,  amid  no  earthly  moans, 
f  Down,  down  that  town  shall  settle  hence, 
(  Hell,  rising  from  a  thousand  thrones,  .     ' .  i  <-£- ' 


s 


Shall  do  it  reverence. 


TO  ONE  IN  PARADISE 

THOU  wast  that  all  to  me,  love, 
For  which  my  soul  did  pine  — 

A  green  isle  in  the  sea,  love, 
A  fountain  and  a  shrine, 

All  wreathed  with  fairy  fruits  and  flowers, 
And  all  the  flowers  were  mine. 

Ah,  dream  too  bright  to  lastl 
Ah,  starry  Hope!  that  didst  arise 

But  to  be  overcast! 
A  voice  from  out  the  Future  cries, 

"On!  on!"  —  but  o'er  the  Past 
(Dim  gulf!)  my  spirit  hovering  lies 

Mute,  motionless,  aghast! 

For,  alas!  alas!  with  me 
,,  The  light  of  Life  is  o'er! 
No  more  —  no  more  —  no  more  — 
(Such  language  holds  the  solemn  sea 

To  the  sands  upon  the  shore) 
Shall  bloom  the  thunder-blasted  tree, 
Or  the  stricken  eagle  soar! 

And  all  my  days  are  trances, 

And  all  my  nightly  dreams  ' 
Are  where  thy  grey  eye  glances, 

And  where  thy  footstep  gleams  — 
In  what  ethereal  dances, 

By  what  eternal  streams. 


EULALIE  — A  SONG 

I  DWELT  alone 
In  a  world  of  moan, 
And  my  soul  was  a  stagnant  tide, 
Till  the  fair  and  gentle  Eulalie  became  my  blushing 

bride  — 

Till  the  yellow-haired  young  Eulalie  became  my  smiling 
bride. 

Ah,  less  —  less  bright 
The  stars  of  the  night 
Than  the  eyes  of  the  radiant  girl!  • 
And  never  a  flake 
That  the  vapor  can  make 
With  the  moon-tints  of  purple  and  pearl, 
Can  vie  with  the  modest  Eulalie's  most  unregarded 

curl  — 

Can  compare  with  the  bright-eyed  Eulalie's  most  hum 
ble  and  careless  curl. 

Now  Doubt  —  now  Pain 
Come  never  again, 
For  her  soul  gives  me  sigh  for  sigh, 
And  all  day  long 
Shines,  bright  and  strong, 
Astart6  within  the  sky, 

While  ever  to  her  dear  Eulalie  upturns  her  matron  eye— 
While  ever  to  her  young  Eulalie  upturns  her  violet  eye/- 


TO  F s  S.  0 d 

THOU  wouldst  be  loved?  —  then  let  thy  heart 

From  its  present  pathway  part  not! 
Being  everything  which  now  thou  art, 

Be  nothing  which  thou  art  not.  t 

So  with  the  world  thy  gentle  ways, 

Thy  grace,  thy  more  than  beauty, 
Shall  be  an  endless  theme  of  praise, 

And  love  —  a  simple  duty.  _, 


TO  F 

BELOVED!  amid  the  earnest  woes 
That  crowd  around  my  earthly  path  - 

(Drear  path,  alas!  where  grows 

Not  even  one  lonely  rose) 

My  soul  at  least  a  solace  hath  ^ 

In  dreams  of  thee,  and  therein  knows 

An  Eden  of  bland  repose. 

And  thus  thy  memory  is  to  me 
Like  some  enchanted  far-off  isle 

In  some  tumultuous  sea  — 

Some  ocean  throbbing  far  and  free 
With  storms  —  but  where  meanwhile 

Serenest  skies  continually  ' 
Just  o'er  that  one  bright  island  smile. 


SONNET —  SILENCE 

THERE  are  some  qualities  —  some  incorporate  things, 

That  have  a  double  life,  which  thus  is  made 
A  type  of  that  twin  entity  which  springs 

From  matter  and  light,  evinced  in  solid  and  shade. 
There  is  a  two-fold  Silence  —  sea  and  shore  — 
Body  and  soul.  One  dwells  in  lonely  places, 
Newly  with  grass  o'ergrown ;  some  solemn  graces, 
Some  human  memories  and  tearful  lore, 
Render  him  terrorless:  his  name's  "No  More." 
He  is  the  corporate  Silence:  dread  him  not! 

No  power  hath  he  of  evil  in  himself; 
But  should  some  urgent  fate  (untimely  lot!) 

Bring  thee  to  meet  his  shadow  (nameless  eh*, 
That  haunteth  the  lone  regions  where  hath  trod 
No  foot  of  man,)  commend  thyself  to  God! 


THE  CONQUEROR  WORM 

Lo!  't  is  a  gala  night 

Within  the  lonesome  latter  years! 
An  angel  throng,  bewinged,  bedight 

In  veils,  and  drowned  in  tears, 
Sit  in  a  theatre,  to  see 

A  play  of  hopes  and  fears, 
While  the  orchestra  breathes  fitfully 

The  music  of  the  spheres. 

Mimes,  in  the  form  of  God  on  high, 

Mutter  and  mumble  low, 
And  hither  and  thither  fly  — 

Mere  puppets  they,  who  come  and  go 
At  bidding  of  vast  formless  things 

That  shift  the  scenery  to  and  fro, 
Flapping  from  out  their  Condor  wings 

Invisible  wo! 

That  motley  drama  —  oh,  be  sure 

It  shall  not  be  forgot! 
With  its  phantom  chased  for  evermore, 

By  a  crowd  that  seize  it  not, 
j     Through  a  circle  that  everf  returneth  in 
^"~    To  the  self-same  spot,    I  ^  C  C 

And  much  of  Madness,  and  more  of  Sin, 
And  Horror  the  soul  of  the  plot. 

But  see,  amid  the  mimic  rout 
A  crawling  shape  intrude! 


THE   CONQUEROR  WORM  37 

A  blood-red  thing  that  writhes  from  out 

The  scenic  solitude! 
It  writhes!  —  it  writhes!  —  with  mortal  pangs 

The  mimes  become  its  food, 
And  seraphs  sob  at  vermin  fangs 

In  human  gore  imbued. 

Out  —  out  are  the  lights  —  out  all! 

And,  over  each  quivering  form, 
The  curtain,  a  funeral  pall, 
i    Comes  down  with  the  rush  of  a  storm, 
While  the  angels,  all  pallid  and  wan, 
f-    Uprising,  unveiling,  affirm 

tThat  the  play  is  the  tragedy,  "Man,jr>|    ^  \ 
And  its  hero  the  Conqueror  Worm.  ^  ' 


THE  HAUNTED  PALACE 

IN  the  greenest  of  our  valleys 

By  good  angels  tenanted, 
Once  a  fair  and  stately  palace  — 

Radiant  palace  —  reared  its  head. 
In  the  monarch  Thought's  dominion  — 

It  stood  there! 
Never  seraph  spread  a  pinion 

Over  fabric  half  so  fair! 

Banners  yellow,  glorious,  golden, 

On  its  roof  did  float  and  flow, 
(This  —  all  this  —  was  in  the  olden 

Time  long  ago,) 
And  every  gentle  air  that  dallied, 

In  that  sweet  day, 
Along  the  ramparts  plumed  and  pallid, 

A  winged  odor  went  away. 

Wanderers  in  that  happy  valley, 

Through  two  luminous  windows,  saw 
Spirits  moving  musically, 

To  a  lute's  well-tune'd  law, 
Round  about  a  throne  where,  sitting, 

Porphyrogene,        , 
In  state  his  glory  well  befitting, 

The  ruler  of  the  realm  was  seen. 

And  all  with  pearl  and  ruby  glowing 
Was  the  fair  palace  door, 


THE  HAUNTED   PALACE  39 

Through  which  came  flowing,  flowing,  flowing, 

And  sparkling  evermore, 
A  troop  of  Echoes,  whose  sweet  duty 

Was  but  to  sing, 
In  voices  of  surpassing  beauty, 

The  wit  and  wisdom  of  their  king. 

But  evil  things,  in  robes  of  sorrow, 

Assailed  the  monarch's  high  estate. 
(Ah,  let  us  mourn!  —  for  never  morrow 

Shall  dawn  upon  him,  desolate!) 
And  round  about  his  home  the  glory 

That  blushed  and  bloomed 
Is  but  a  dim-remembered  story 

Of  the  old-time  entombed. 

And  travellers,  now,  within  that  valley, 

Through  the  encrimson'd  windows  see 
Vast  forms  that  move  fantastically 

To  a  discordant  melody, 
While,  like  a  ghastly  rapid  river, 

Through  the  pale  door 
A  hideous  throng  rush  out  forever 

And  laugh  —  but  smile  no  more. 


SCENES  FROM  "POLITIAN" 

AN  UNPUBLISHED   DRAMA 

I 
ROME.  —  A  Hall  in  a  Palace.    Alessandra  and  Castiglione. 

Akssandra.  Thou  art  sad,  Castiglione. 

Castiglione.  Sad !  —  not  I. 
Oh,  I  'm  the  happiest,  happiest  man  in  Rome! 
A  few  days  more,  thou  knowest,  my  Alessandra, 
Will  make  thee  mine.  Oh,  I  am  very  happy! 

Aless.  Methinks  thou  hast  a  singular  way  of  show 
ing 

Thy  happiness!  —  what  ails  thee,  cousin  of  mine? 
Why  didst  thou  sigh  so  deeply? 

Cas.  Did  I  sigh? 

I  was  not  conscious  of  it.  It  is  a  fashion, 
A  silly  —  a  most  silly  fashion  I  have 
When  I  am  very  happy.  Did  I  sigh?  (sighing.) 

Akss.  Thou  didst.  Thou  art  not  well.   Thou  hast 

indulged 

Too  much  of  late,  and  I  am  vexed  to  see  it. 
Late  hours  and  wine,  Castiglione,  —  these 
Will  ruin  thee!  thou  art  already  altered  — 
Thy  looks  are  haggard  —  nothing  so  wears  away 
The  constitution  as  late  hours  and  wine. 

Cas.  (musing.)  Nothing,  fair  cousin,  nothing  —  not 

even  deep  sorrow  — 

Wears  it  away  like  evil  hours  and  wine.  / 
I  will  amend. 


•a-s 


g  S 

o  — 


. 
O   O 

n 


SCENES   FROM    "  POLITIAN  "  4! 

Aless.  Do  it!  I  would  have  thee  drop 
Thy  riotous  company,  too  —  fellows  low  born  — 
111  suit  the  like  with  old  Di  Broglio's  heir 
And  Alessandra's  husband. 

Cos.  I  will  drop  them. 

Aless.  Thou  wilt  —  thou  must.   Attend  thou  also 

more 

To  thy  dress  and  equipage  —  they  are  over  plain 
For  thy  lofty  rank  and  fashion  —  much  depends 
Upon  appearances. 

Cos.  I  '11  see  to  it. 

Aless.  Then  see  to  it!  —  pay  more  attention,  sir, 
To  a  becoming  carriage  —  much  thou  wantest 
In  dignity. 

Cos.  Much,  much,  oh  much  I  want 
In  proper  dignity. 

Aless.  (haughtily.)  Thou  mockest  me,  sir! 

Cas.  (abstractedly.)  Sweet,  gentle  Lalage! 

Aless.  Heard  I  aright? 
I  speak  to  him  —  he  speaks  of  Lalage! 
Sir  Count!  (places  her  hand  on  his  shoulder)  what  art 

thou  dreaming?  he  's  not  well! 
What  ails  thee,  sir? 

Cas.  (starting.)  Cousin!  fair  cousin!  —  madam! 
I  crave  thy  pardon  —  indeed  I  am  not  well  — 
Your  hand  from  off  my  shoulder,  if  you  please. 
This  air  is  most  oppressive!  —  Madam—  the  Duke! 

Enter  Di  Broglio. 

Di  Broglio.  My  son,  I  've  news  for  thee!  —  hey?  — 

what 's  the  matter?  (observing  Alessandra.) 
I*  the  pouts?  Kiss  her,  Castiglione!  kiss  her, 
You  dog!  and  make  it  up,  I  say,  this  minute! 


42     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

I  Ve  news  for  you  both.  Politian  is  expected 
Hourly  in  Rome  —  Politian,  Earl  of  Leicester! 
We  '11  have  him  at  the  wedding.  'T  is  his  first  visit 
To  the  imperial  city. 

Akss.  What!  Politian 
Of  Britain,  Earl  of  Leicester? 

Di  Brog.  The  same,  my  love. 
We  '11  have  him  at  the  wedding.  A  man  quite  young 
In  years,  but  grey  in  fame.  I  have  not  seen  him, 
But  Rumour  speaks  of  him  as  of  a  prodigy 
Pre-eminent  in  arts  and  arms,  and  wealth, 
And  high  descent.  We  '11  have  him  at  the  wedding. 

Akss.  I  have  heard  much  of  this  Politian. 
Gay,  volatile  and  giddy  —  is  he  not? 
And  little  given  to  thinking. 

Di  Brog.  Far  from  it,  love. 
No  branch,  they  say,  of  all  philosophy 
So  deep  abstruse  he  has  not  mastered  it. 
Learned  as  few  are  learned. 

Aless.  'T  is  very  strange! 
I  have  known  men  have  seen  Politian 
And  sought  his  company.  They  speak  of  him 
As  of  one  who  entered  madly  into  life, 
Drinking  the  cup  of  pleasure  to  the  dregs. 

Cos.  Ridiculous!  Now  7  have  seen  Politian 
And  know  him  well  —  nor  learned  nor  mirthful  he. 
He  is  a  dreamer  and  a  man  shut  out 
From  common  passions. 

Di  Brog.  Children,  we  disagree. 
Let  us  go  forth  and  taste  the  fragrant  air 
Of  the  garden.  Did  I  dream,  or  did  I  hear 
Politian  was  a  melancholy  man?  (exeunt.) 


SCENES  FROM       POLITIAN  43 

II 

A  Lady's  apartment,  with  a  window  open  and  looking  into  a 
garden.  Lalage,  in  deep  mourning,  reading  at  a  table  on  which 
lie  some  books  and  a  hand  mirror.  In  the  back  ground  Jacinta 
(a  servant  maid)  leans  carelessly  upon  a  chair. 

Lalage.  Jacinta!  is  it  thou? 
Jacinta.  (pertly.)  Yes,  Ma'am,  I  'm  here. 
Lai.  I  did  not  know,  Jacinta,  you  were  in  waiting. 
Sit  down!  —  let  not  my  presence  trouble  you  — 
Sit  down!  —  for  I  am  humble,  most  humble. 
Jac.  (aside.}  'T  is  time. 

(Jacinta  seats  herself  in  a  side-long  manner  upon 
the  chair,  resting  her  elbows  upon  the  back,  and 
regarding  her  mistress  with  a  contemptuous  look. 
Lalage  continues  to  read.) 
Lai.  "It  in  another  climate,  so  he  said, 
"Bore  a  bright  golden  flower,  but  not  i'  this  soil!" 
(pauses  —  turns  over  some  leaves,  and  resumes.) 
"No  lingering  winters  there,  nor  snow,  nor  shower  — 
"But  Ocean  ever  to  refresh  mankind 
"Breathes  the  shrill  spirit  of  the  western  wind." 
Oh,  beautiful!  —  most  beautiful!  —  how  like 
To  what  my  fevered  soul  doth  dream  of  Heaven! 
O  happy  land!  (pauses.)  She  died!  —  the  maiden  died! 
O  still  more  happy  maiden  who  couldst  die! 
Jacinta! 

(Jacinta  returns  no  answer,  and  Lalage  presently  re 
sumes.) 

Again  !  —  a  similar  tale 
Told  of  a  beauteous  dame  beyond  the  sea! 
Thusspeaketh  one  Ferdinand  in  the  words  of  the  play — 
"She  died  full  young"  —  one  Bossola  answers  him  — 


44     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

"I  think  not  so  —  her  infelicity 

"Seemed  to  have  years  too  many"  —  Ah  luckless  lady! 

Jacinta!  (still  no  answer.) 

Here  's  a  far  sterner  story 
But  like  —  oh,  very  like  in  its  despair  — 
Of  that  Egyptian  queen,  winning  so  easily 
A  thousand  hearts  —  losing  at  length  her  own. 
She  died.  Thus  endeth  the  history  —  and  her  maids 
Lean  over  her  and  weep  —  two  gentle  maids 
With  gentle  names  —  Eiros  and  Charmionl 
Rainbow  and  Dove! Jacinta! 

.Jac.  (pettishly.)  Madam,  what  is  it? 

Lai.  Wilt  thou,  my  good  Jacinta,  be  so  kind 
As  go  down  in  the  library  and  bring  me 
The  Holy  Evangelists. 

Jac.  Pshaw!  (exit.) 

Lai.  If  there  be  balm 

For  the  wounded  spirit  in  Gilead  it  is  there! 
Dew  in  the  night  time  of  my  bitter  trouble 
Will  there  be  found  —  "  dew  sweeter  far  than  that 
Which  hangs  like  chains  of  pearl  on  Hermon  Hill." 

(re-enter  Jacinta,  and  throws  a  volume  on  the  table.") 
There,  ma'am,  's  the  book.  Indeed  she  is  very  trouble 
some,  (aside.) 

Lai.  (astonished.)        What  didst  thou  say,  Jacinta? 

Have  I  done  aught 

To  grieve  thee  or  to  vex  thee?  —  I  am  sorry. 
For  thou  hast  served  me  long  and  ever  been 
Trust-worthy  and  respectful,  (resumes  her  reading.) 

Jac.  I  can't  believe 

She  has  any  more  jewels  —  no  —  no  —  she  gave  me 
all.    (aside.) 

Lai.  What  didst  thou  say,  Jacinta?  Now  I  bethink  me 


SCENES   FROM    "  POLITIAN  "  45 

Thou  hast  not  spoken  lately  of  thy  wedding. 
How  fares  good  Ugo?  —  and  when  is  it  to  be? 
Can  I  do  aught?  —  is  there  no  farther  aid 
Thou  needest,  Jacinta? 

Jac.  Is  there  no  farther  aid! 
That 's  meant  for  me.   (aside)  I  'm  sure,  Madam;  you 

need  not 
Be  always  throwing  those  jewels  in  my  teeth. 

Lai.  Jewels!  Jacinta,  —  now  indeed,  Jacinta, 
I  thought  not  of  the  jewels. 

Jac.  Oh!  perhaps  not! 
But  then  I  might  have  sworn  it.  After  all, 
There  's  Ugo  says  the  ring  is  only  paste, 
For  he  's  sure  the  Count  Castiglione  never 
Would  have  given  a  real  diamond  to  such  as  you; 
And  at  the  best  I  'm  certain,  Madam,  you  cannot 
Have  use  for  jewels  now.  But  I  might  have  sworn  it. 

(exit.) 

(Lalage  bursts  into  tears  and  leans  her  head  upon 
the  table  —  after  a  short  pause  raises  it.) 

Lai.  Poor  Lalage!  —  and  is  it  come  to  this? 
Thy  servant  maid!  —  but  courage!  —  *t  is  but  a  viper  * 
Whom  thou  hast  cherished  to  sting  thee  to  the  soul! 

(taking  up  the  mirror. 

Ha!  here  at  least 's  a  friend  —  too  much  a  friend 
In  earlier  days  —  a  friend  will  not  deceive  thee. 
Fair  mirror  and  true!  now  tell  me  (for  thou  canst) 
A  tale  —  a  pretty  tale  —  and  heed  thou  not 
Though  it  be  rife  with  woe.  It  answers  me* 
It  speaks  of  sunken  eyes,  and  wasted  cheeks, 
And  Beauty  long  deceased  —  remembers  me 
Of  Joy  departed  —  Hope,  the  Seraph  Hope, 
Inurned  and  entombed!  —  now,  in  a  tone 


46     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Low,  sad,  and  solemn,  but  most  audible, 

Whispers  of  early  grave  untimely  yawning 

For  ruined  maid.  Fair  mirror  and  true ! — thou  liest  notl 

Thou  hast  no  end  to  gain  —  no  heart  to  break  — 

Castiglione  lied  who  said  he  loved 

Thou  true  —  he  false!  —  false!  —  false! 

(while  she  speaks,  a  monk  enters  her  apartment, 
and  approaches  unobserved.) 

Monk.  Refuge  thou  hast, 

Sweet  daughter!  in  Heaven.  Think  of  eternal  things  1 
Give  up  thy  soul  to  penitence,  and  pray! 

Lai.  (arising  hurriedly.)  I  cannot  pray!  —  My  soul 

is  at  war  with  God! 

The  frightful  sounds  of  merriment  below 
Disturb  my  senses  —  go!  I  cannot  pray  — 
The  sweet  airs  from  the  garden  worry  me! 
Thy  presence  grieves  me  —  go!  —  thy  priestly  raiment 
Fills  me  with  dread  —  thy  ebony  crucifix 
With  horror  and  awe! 

Monk.  Think  of  thy  precious  soul! 

Lai.  Think  of  my  early  days!  —  think  of  my  father 
And  mother  in  Heaven!  think  of  our  quiet  home, 
And  the  rivulet  that  ran  before  the  door! 
Think  of  my  little  sisters!  —  think  of  them! 
And  think  of  me!  —  think  of  my  trusting  love 
And    confidence  —  his     vows  —  my   ruin  —  think  — 
think 

Of  my  unspeakable  misery! begone! 

Yet  stay!  yet  stay!  —  what  was  it  thou  saidst  of  prayer 
And  penitence?  Didst  thou  not  speak  of  faith 
And  vows  before  the  throne? 

Monk.  I  did. 

Lai.  'T  is  well. 


SCENES   FROM    "  POLITIAN  "  47 

There  is  a  vow  were  fitting  should  be  made  — 
A  sacred  vow,  imperative,  and  urgent, 
A  solemn  vow! 

Monk.  Daughter,  this  zeal  is  well! 

Lai.  Father,  this  zeal  is  anything  but  well! 
Hast  thou  a  crucifix  fit  for  this  thing? 
A  crucifix  whereon  to  register 
This  sacred  vow?      (he  hands  her  his  own.) 
Not  that  —  Oh!  no!  —  no!  —  no!  (shuddering.) 
Not  that!  Not  that!  —  I  tell  thee,  holy  man. 
Thy  raiments  and  thy  ebony  cross  affright  me! 
Stand  back!  I  have  a  crucifix  myself,  — 
I  have  a  crucifix!  Methinks  't  were  fitting 
The  deed  —  the  vow  —  the  symbol  of  the  deed  — 
And  the  deed's  register  should  tally,  father! 

(draws  a  cross-handled  dagger  and  raises  it  on  high.) 
Behold  the  cross  wherewith  a  vow  like  mine 
Is  written  in  Heaven! 

Monk.  Thy  words  are  madness,  daughter, 
And  speak  a  purpose  unholy  —  thy  lips  are  livid  — 
Thine  eyes  are  wild  —  tempt  not  the  wrath  divine! 
Pause  ere  too  late  !  —  oh  be  not  —  be  not  rash! 
Swear  not  the  oath  —  oh  swear  it  not! 

Lai.  Tis  sworn! 

ni 

An  apartment  in  a  palace.  Politian  and  Baldazzar. 

Baldazzar. Arouse  thee  now,  Politian! 

Thou  must  not  —  nay  indeed,  indeed,  thou  shalt  not 
Give  way  unto  these  humours.  Be  thyself! 
Shake  off  the  idle  fancies  that  beset  thee, 
And  live,  for  now  thou  diest! 


48     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Politian.  Not  so,  Baldazzar! 
Surely  I  live. 

Bal.  Politian,  it  doth  grieve  me 
To  see  thee  thus. 

Pol.  Baldazzar,  it  doth  grieve  me 
To  give  thee  cause  for  grief,  my  honoured  friend. 
Command  me,  sir!  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  do? 
At  thy  behest  I  will  shake  off  that  nature 
Which  from  my  forefathers  I  did  inherit, 
Which  with  my  mother's  milk  I  did  imbibe, 
And  be  no  more  Politian,  but  some  other. 
Command  me,  sir! 

Bal.  To  the  field  then  —  to  the  field  — 
To  the  senate  or  the  field. 

Pol.  Alas!  alas! 

There  is  an  imp  would  follow  me  even  there! 
There  is  an  imp  hath  followed  me  even  there! 
There  is what  voice  was  that? 

Bal.  I  heard  it  not. 

I  heard  not  any  voice  except  thine  own, 
And  the  echo  of  thine  own. 

Pol.  Then  I  but  dreamed. 

Bal.  Give  not  thy  soul  to  dreams:  the  camp — the  court 
Befit  thee  —  Fame  awaits  thee  —  Glory  calls  — 
And  her  the  trumpet-tongued  thou  wilt  not  hear 
In  hearkening  to  imaginary  sounds 
And  phantom  voices. 

Pol.  It  is  a  phantom  voice! 
Didst  thou  not  hear  it  then? 

Bal.  I  heard  it  not. 

Pol.  Thou  heardst  it  not! Baldazzar,  speak  no 

more 
To  me,  Politian,  of  thy  camps  and  courts. 


SCENES   FROM    "  POLITIAN  "  49 

Oh!  I  am  sick,  sick,  sick,  even  unto  death, 

Of  the  hollow  and  high-sounding  vanities 

Of  the  populous  Earth!  Bear  with  me  yet  awhile! 

We  have  been  boys  together  —  school-fellows  — 

And  now  are  friends  —  yet  shall  not  be  so  long  — 

For  in  the  eternal  city  thou  shalt  do  me 

A  kind  and  gentle  office,  and  a  Power  — 

A  Power  august,  benignant  and  supreme  — 

Shall  then  absolve  thee  of  all  farther  duties 

Unto  thy  friend. 

Bal.  Thou  speakest  a  fearful  riddle 
I  will  not  understand. 

Pol.  Yet  now  as  Fate 

Approaches,  and  the  Hours  are  breathing  low, 
The  sands  of  Time  are  changed  to  golden  grains, 
And  dazzle  me,  Baldazzar.  Alas!  alas! 
I  cannot  die,  having  within  my  heart 
So  keen  a  relish  for  the  beautiful 
As  hath  been  kindled  within  it.  Me  thinks  the  air 
Is  balmier  now  than  it  was  wont  to  be  — 
Rich  melodies  are  floating  in  the  winds  — 
A  rarer  loveliness  bedecks  the  earth  — 
And  with  a  holier  lustre  the  quiet  moon 
Sitteth  in  Heaven.  —  Hist!  hist!  thou  canst  not  say 
Thou  hearest  not  now,  Baldazzar? 

Bal.  Indeed  I  hear  not. 

Pol.  Not  hear  it!  —  listen  now  —  listen! —  the  faint 
est  sound 

And  yet  the  sweetest  that  ear  ever  heard! 
A  lady's  voice!  —  and  sorrow  in  the  tone! 
Baldazzar,  it  oppresses  me  like  a  spell! 
Again!  —  again!  —  how  solemnly  it  falls 
Into  my  heart  of  hearts!  that  eloquent  voice 


5O     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Surely  I  never  heard  —  yet  it  were  well 
Had  I  but  heard  it  with  its  thrilling  tones 
In  earlier  days! 

Bal.  I  myself  hear  it  now. 
Be  still!  —  the  voice,  if  I  mistake  not  greatly, 
Proceeds  from  yonder  lattice  —  which  you  may  see 
Very  plainly  through  the  window  —  it  belongs, 
Does  it  not?  unto  this  palace  of  the  Duke. 
The  singer  is  undoubtedly  beneath 
The  roof  of  his  Excellency  —  and  perhaps 
Is  even  that  Alessandra  of  whom  he  spoke 
As  the  betrothed  of  Castiglione, 
His  son  and  heir. 
Pol.  Be  still!  —  it  comes  again! 

Voice        "And  is  thy  heart  so  strong 
(very  faintly.)  As  for  to  leave  me  thus 

Who  hath  loved  thee  so  long 
In  wealth  and  wo  among?, 
And  is  thy  heart  so  strong 
As  for  to  leave  me  thus? 

Say  nay  —  say  nay!" 

Bal.  The  song  is  English,  and  I  oft  have  heard  it 
In  merry  England  —  never  so  plaintively  — 
Hist!  hist!  it  comes  again! 

Voice  "Is  it  so  strong 

(more  loudly.}  As  for  to  leave  me  thus 

Who  hath  loved  thee  so  long 
In  wealth  and  wo  among? 
And  is  thy  heart  so  strong 
As  for  to  leave  me  thus? 

Say  nay  —  say  nay!" 
Bal.  T  is  hushed  and  all  is  still! 
Pol.  All  is  not  still. 


SCENES   FROM       POLITIAN "  51 

Bal.  Let  us  go  down. 

Pol.  Go  down,  Baldazzar,  go! 

Bal.  The  hour  is  growing  late — the  Duke  awaits  us,  — ' 
Thy  presence  is  expected  in  the  hall 
Below.  What  ails  thee,  Earl  Politian? 

Voice        "  Who  hath  loved  thee  so  long, 
(distinctly.)      In  wealth  and  wo  among, 
And  is  thy  heart  so  strong? 
Say  nay  —  say  nay ! " 

Bal.  Let  us  descend!  —  't  is  time.  Politian,  give 
These  fancies  to  the  wind.  Remember,  pray, 
Your  bearing  lately  savoured  much  of  rudeness 
Unto  the  Duke.  Arouse  thee!  and  remember! 

Pol.  Remember?  I  do.  Lead  on!  I  do  remember. 

(going.) 

Let  us  descend.  Believe  me  I  would  give, 
Freely  would  give  the  broad  lands  of  my  earldom 
To  look  upon  the  face  hidden  by  yon  lattice  — 
"To  gaze  upon  that  veiled  face,  and  hear 
Once  more  that  silent  tongue." 

Bal.  Let  me  beg  you,  sir, 
Descend  with  me  —  the  Duke  may  be  offended. 
Let  us  go  down,  I  pray  you. 

(Voice  loudly.)  Say  nay!  —  say  nay! 

Pol.  (aside.}   T  is  strange!  —  't  is  very  strange  — 

methought  the  voice 
Chimed  in  with  my  desires  and  bade  me  stay! 

(approaching  the  window.) 
Sweet  voice!  I  heed  thee,  and  will  surely  stay. 
Now  be  this  Fancy,  by  Heaven,  or  be  it  Fate, 
Still  will  I  not  descend.  Baldazzar,  make 
Apology  unto  the  Duke  for  me; 
I  go  not  down  to-night. 


52     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Bal.  Your  lordship's  pleasure 
Shall  be  attended  to.  Good  night,  Politian. 
Pol.  Good  night,  my  friend,  good  night. 


IV 

The  gardens  of  a  palace  —  Moonlight.  Lalage  and  Politian. 

Lalage.  And  dost  thou  speak  of  love 
To  me,  Politian?  —  dost  thou  speak  of  love 
To  Lalage?  —  ah  wo  —  ah  wo  is  me! 
This  mockery  is  most  cruel  —  most  cruel  indeed! 

Politian.  Weep  not!  oh,  sob  not  thus!  —  thy  bitter 

tears 

Will  madden  me.  Oh  mourn  not,  Lalage  — 
Be  comforted!  I  know  —  I  know  it  all, 
And  still  I  speak  of  love.  Look  at  me,  brightest, 
And  beautiful  Lalage!  —  turn  here  thine  eyes! 
Thou  askest  me  if  I  could  speak  of  love, 
Knowing  what  I  know,  and  seeing  what  I  have  seen. 
Thou  askest  me  that  —  and  thus  I  answer  thee  — 
Thus  on  my  bended  knee  I  answer  thee.   (kneeling.) 
Sweet  Lalage,  /  love  thee  —  love  thee  —  love  thee  ; 
Thro'  good  and  ill  —  thro'  weal  and  wo  I  love  thee. 
Not  mother,  with  her  first  born  on  her  knee, 
Thrills  with  intenser  love  than  I  for  thee. 
Not  on  God's  altar,  in  any  time  or  clime, 
Burned  there  a  holier  fire  than  burneth  now 
Within  my  spirit  for  thee.  And  do  I  love  ?  (arising.) 
Even  for  thy  woes  I  love  thee  —  even  for  thy  woes  — 
Thy  beauty  and  thy  woes. 

Lai.  Alas,  proud  Earl, 
Thou  dost  forget  thyself,  remembering  me! 


SCENES  FROM   "  POLITIAN  53 

How,  in  thy  father's  halls,  among  the  maidens 

Pure  and  reproachless  of  thy  princely  line, 

Could  the  dishonoured  Lalage  abide? 

Thy  wife,  and  with  a  tainted  memory  — 

My  seared  and  blighted  name,  how  would  it  tally 

With  the  ancestral  honours  of  thy  house, 

And  with  thy  glory? 

Pol.  Speak  not  to  me  of  glory! 
I  hate  —  I  loathe  the  name;  I  do  abhor 
The  unsatisfactory  and  ideal  thing. 
Art  thou  not  Lalage  and  I  Politian? 
Do  I  not  love  —  art  thou  not  beautiful  — 
What  need  we  more?  Ha!  glory!  —  now  speak  not  of  it! 
By  all  I  hold  most  sacred  and  most  solemn  — 
By  all  my  wishes  now  —  my  fears  hereafter  — 
By  all  I  scorn  on  earth  and  hope  in  heaven  — 
There  is  no  deed  I  would  more  glory  in, 
Than  in  thy  cause  to  scoff  at  this  same  glory 
And  trample  it  under  foot.  What  matters  it  — 
What  matters  it,  my  fairest,  and  my  best, 
That  we  go  down  unhonoured  and  forgotten 
Into  the  dust  —  so  we  descend  together. 
Descend  together  —  and  then  —  and  then  perchance— 

Lai.  Why  dost  thou  pause,  Politian? 

Pol.  And  then  perchance 
A  rise  together,  Lalage,  and  roam 
The  starry  and  quiet  dwellings  of  the  blest, 
And  still 

Lai.  Why  dost  thou  pause,  Politian? 

Pol.  And  still  together  —  together. 

Lai.  Now  Earl  of  Leicester! 
Thou  lovest  me,  and  in  my  heart  of  hearts 
I  feel  thou  lovest  me  truly. 


54     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Pol.  Oh,  Lalage!  (throwing  himself  upon  his  knee.) 
And  lovest  thou  me  ? 

Lai.  Hist!  hush!  within  the  gloom 
Of  yonder  trees  methought  a  figure  past  — 
A  spectral  figure,  solemn,  and  slow,  and  noiseless  — 
Like  the  grim  shadow  Conscience,  solemn  and  noiseless. 

(walks  across  and  returns.) 
I  was  mistaken  —  't  was  but  a  giant 'bough 
Stirred  by  the  autumn  wind.  Politian! 

Pol.  My  Lalage  —  my  love!  why  art  thou  moved? 
Why  dost  thou  turn  so  pale?  Not  Conscience'  self, 
Far  less  a  shadow  which  thou  likenest  to  it, 
Should  shake  the  firm  spirit  thus.    But  the  night  wind 
Is  chilly  —  and  these  melancholy  boughs 
Throw  over  all  things  a  gloom. 

Lai.  Politian! 

Thou  speakest  to  me  of  love.  Knowest  thou  the  land 
With  which  all  tongues  are  busy  —  a  land  new  found  — 
Miraculously  found  by  one  of  Genoa  — 
A  thousand  leagues  within  the  golden  west? 
A  fairy  land  of  flowers,  and  fruit,  and  sunshine, 
And  crystal  lakes,  and  over-arching  forests, 
And  mountains,  around  whose  towering  summits  the 

winds 

Of  Heaven  untrammelled  flow  —  which  air  to  breathe 
Is  Happiness  now,  and  will  be  Freedom  hereafter 
In  days  that  are  to  come  ? 

Pol.  0,  wilt  thou  —  wilt  thou 
Fly  to  that  Paradise  —  my  Lalage,  wilt  thou 
Fly  thither  with  me?  There  Care  shall  be  forgotten, 
And  Sorrow  shall  be  no  more,  and  Eros  be  all. 
And  life  shall  then  be  mine,  for  I  will  live 
For  thee,  and  in  thine  eyes  —  and  thou  shalt  be 


SCENES  FROM       POLITIAN  "  55 

No  more  a  mourner  —  but  the  radiant  Joys 
Shall  wait  upon  thee,  and  the  angel  Hope 
Attend  thee  ever  ;  and  I  will  kneel  to  thee 
And  worship  thee,  and  call  thee  my  beloved, 
My  own,  my  beautiful,  my  love,  my  wife, 
My  all ;  —  oh,  wilt  thou  —  wilt  thou,  Lalage, 
Fly  thither  with  me  ? 

Lai.  A  deed  is  to  be  done  — 
Castiglione  lives! 

Pol.  And  he  shall  die!     (exit.) 

Lai.    (after  a  pause.)    And  —  he  —  shall  —  die! 

alas ! 

Castiglione  die?  Who  spoke  the  words? 

Where  am  I?  —  what  was  it  he  said?  —  Politian! 

Thou  art  not  gone  —  thou  art  not  gone,  Politian ! 

I  feel  thou  art  not  gone  —  yet  dare  not  look, 

Lest  I  behold  thee  not;  thou  couldst  not  go 

With  those  words  upon  thy  lips  —  O,  speak  to  me! 

And  let  me  hear  thy  voice  —  one  word  —  one  word, 

To  say  thou  art  not  gone,  —  one  little  sentence, 

To  say  how  thou  dost  scorn  —  how  thou  dost  hate 

My  womanly  weakness.  Ha!  ha!  thou  art  not  gone  — 

0  speak  to  me!  I  knew  thou  wouldst  not  go! 

1  knew  thou  wouldst  not,  couldst  not,  durst  not  go. 
Villain,  thou  art  not  gone  —  thou  mockest  me! 

And  thus  I  clutch  thee  —  thus! He  is  gone,  he  is 

gone  — 
Gone  —  gone.  Where  am  I  ? 't  is  well  —  't  is  very 

well! 

So  that  the  blade  be  keen  —  the  blow  be  sure, 
'T  is  well,  't  is  very  well  —  alas!  alas!  (exit.) 


56     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 


The  suburbs.  Politian  alone. 

Politian.  This  weakness  grows  upon  me.  I  am  faint, 
And  much  I  fear  me  ill  —  it  will  not  do 
To  die  ere  I  have  lived!  Stay  —  stay  thy  hand,' 
O  Azrael,  yet  awhile!  —  Prince  of  the  Powers 
Of  Darkness  and  the  Tomb,  O  pity  me! 
O  pity  me!  let  me  not  perish  now, 
In  the  budding  of  my  Paradisal  Hopel 
Give  me  to  live  yet  —  yet  a  little  while: 
JT  is  I  who  pray  for  life  —  I  who  so  late 
Demanded  but  to  die!  —  what  sayeth  the  Count?. 

Enter  Baldazzar. 

Baldazzar.  That  knowing  no  cause  of  quarrel  or  of 

feud 

Between  the  Earl  Politian  and  himself, 
He  doth  decline  your  cartel. 

Pol.  What  didst  thou  say? 

What  answer  was  it  you  brought  me,  good  Baldazzar? 
With  what  excessive  fragrance  the  zephyr  comes 
Laden  from  yonder  bowers !  —  a  fairer  day, 
Or  one  more  worthy  Italy,  methinks 
No  mortal  eyes  have  seen!  —  what  said  the  Count? 

Bal.  That  he,  Castiglione,  not  being  aware 
Of  any  feud  existing,  or  any  cause 
Of  quarrel  between  your  lordship  and  himself 
Cannot  accept  the  challenge. 

Pol.  It  is  most  true  — 
All  this  is  very  true.  When  saw  you,  sir, 
When  saw  you  now,  Baldazzar,  in  the  frigid 
Ungenial  Britain  which  we  left  so  lately, 


SCENES   FROM    "  POLITIAN  "  57 

A  heaven  so  calm  as  this  —  so  utterly  free 
From  the  evil  taint  of  clouds?  —  and  he  did  say? 

BaL  No  more,  my  lord,  than  I  have  told  you,  sir: 
The  Count  Castiglione  will  not  fight, 
Having  no  cause  for  quarrel. 

Pol.  Now  this  is  true  — 
All  very  true.  Thou  art  my  friend,  Baldazzar, 
And  I  have  not  forgotten  it  —  thou  'It  do  me 
A  piece  of  service;  wilt  thou  go  back  and  say 
Unto  this  man,  that  I,  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
Hold  him  a  villain  ?  —  thus  much,  I  prythee,  say 
Unto  the  Count  —  it  is  exceeding  just 
He  should  have  cause  for  quarrel. 

BaL  My  lord !  —  my  friend ! 

Pol.  (aside.)    'T  is  he  —  he  comes  himself!    (aloud.') 

thou  reasonest  well. 

I  know  what  thou  wouldst  say  —  not  send  the  mes 
sage — 

Well!  —  I  will  think  of  it  —  I  will  not  send  it. 
Now  prythee,  leave  me  —  hither  doth  come  a  person 
With  whom  affairs  of  a  most  private  nature 
I  would  adjust. 

Bal.  I  go  —  to-morrow  we  meet, 
Do  we  not?  —  at  the  Vatican. 

Pol.  At  the  Vatican.  (exit  Bal.) 

Enter  Castiglione. 

Cos.  The  Earl  of  Leicester  here! 

Pol.  I  am  the  Earl  of  Leicester,  and  thou  seest, 
Dost  thou  not?  that  I  am  here. 

Cas.  My  lord,  some  strange,  1 
Some  singular  mistake  —  misunderstanding  — 
Hath  without  doubt  arisen:  thou  hast  been  urged 


58     THE  RAVEN  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

Thereby,  in  heat  of  anger,  to  address 

Some  words  most  unaccountable,  in  writing, 

To  me,  Castiglione;  the  bearer  being 

Baldazzar,  Duke  of  Surrey.  I  am  aware  ' 

Of  nothing  which  might  warrant  thee  in  this  thing, 

Having  given  thee  no  offence.   Ha!  —  am  I  right? 

'T  was  a  mistake  ?  —  undoubtedly  —  we  all 

Do  err  at  times. 

~~  Pol.  Draw,  villain,  and  prate  no  more! 

Cos.  Ha!  —  draw?  —  and  villain?  have  at  thee  then 

at  once, 
Proud  Earl!  (draws.) 

Pol.  (drawing.}  Thus  to  the  expiatory  tomb, 
Untimely  sepulchre,  I  do  devote  thee 
In  the  name  of  Lalage! 

Cos.  (letting  fall  his  sword  and  recoiling  to  the  extremity 

of  the  stage.) 
Of  Lalage! 

Hold  off  —  thy  sacred  hand!  —  avaunt  I  say! 
Avaunt  —  I  will  not  fight  thee  —  indeed  I  dare  not. 

Pol.  Thou  wilt  not  fight  with  me  didst  say,  Sir  Count  ? 
Shall  I  be  baffled  thus?  —  now  this  is  well; 
Didst  say  thou  darest  not?  Ha! 

Cos.  I  dare  not  —  dare  not  — 
Hold  off  thy  hand  —  with  that  beloved  name 
So  fresh  upon  thy  lips  I  will  not  fight  thee  — 
I  cannot  —  dare  not. 

Pol.  Now  by  my  halidom 
I  do  believe  thee!  —  coward,  I  do  believe  thee! 

Cos.  Ha!  —  coward!  —  this  may  not  be! 

(clutches  his  sword  and  staggers  towards  Politian, 
but  his  purpose  is  changed  before  reaching  him, 
and  he  falls  upon  his  knee  at  the  feet  of  the  Earl.) 


SCENES   FROM    "  POLITIAN  "  59 

Alas!  my  lord, 

It  is  —  it  is  —  most  true.  In  such  a  cause 
I  am  the  veriest  coward.  O  pity  me ! 

Pol.  (greatly  softened.)  Alas!  —  I  do  —  indeed  I  pity 
thee. 

Cas.  And  Lalage 

Pol.  Scoundrel!  —  arise  and  die! 

Cas.  It  needeth  not  be  —  thus  —  thus  —  O  let  me 

die 

Thus  on  my  bended  knee.  It  were  most  fitting 
That  in  this  deep  humiliation  I  perish. 
For  in  the  fight  I  will  not  raise  a  hand 
Against  thee,  Earl  of  Leicester.  Strike  thou  home  — 

(baring  his  bosom.) 

Here  is  no  let  or  hindrance  to  thy  weapon  — 
Strike  home.  I  will  not  fight  thee. 

Pol.  Now  's  Death  and  Hell! 
Am  I  not  —  am  I  not  sorely  —  grievously  tempted 
To  take  thee  at  thy  word  ?  But  mark  me,  sir! 
Think  not  to  fly  me  thus.   Do  thou  prepare 
For  public  insult  in  the  streets  —  before 
The  eyes  of  the  citizens.  I  '11  follow  thee  — 
Like  an  avenging  spirit  I  '11  follow  thee 
Even  unto  death.  Before  those  whom  thou  lovest  — 
Before  all  Rome  I  '11  taunt  thee,  villain,  —  I  '11  taunt 

thee, 

Dost  hear?  with  cowardice  —  thou  wilt  not  fight  me? 
Thou  liest!  thou  shaltl  (exit.) 

Cas.  Now  this  indeed  is  just! 
Most  righteous,  and  most  just,  avenging  Heaven! 


LATER   POEMS 


LATER   POEMS 

THE  BELLS 


HEAR  the  sledges  with  the  bells  •— 

Saver  bells! 

What  a  world  of  merriment  their  melody  foretells! 
How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle, 

In  the  icy  air  of  night  1 

.  While,  the  stars  that  oversprinkle 

All  the  Heavens,  seem  to  twinkle 

With  a  crystalline  delight; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 
To  the  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  wells 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells  — 
From  the  jingling  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells. 

II 

Hear  the  mellow  wedding  bells  — 

Golden  bells! 

What  a  world  of  happiness  their  harmony  foretells! 
Through  the  balmy  air  of  night 
How  they  ring  out  their  delight!  — 
From  the  molten-golden  notes, 

And  all  in  tune, 
What  a  liquid  ditty  floats 
To  the  turtle-dove  that  listens,  while  she  gloats 
On  the  moon ! 


64  LATER  POEMS  , 

Oh,  from  out  the  sounding  cells, 
What  a  gush  of  euphony  voluminously  wells! 
How  it  swells! 
How  it  dwells 

On  the  future!  —  how  it  tells 
Of  the  rapture  that  impels 
To  the  swinging  and  the  ringing 

Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells  — 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 
Bells,  bells,  bells  — 
To  the  rhyming  and  the  chiming  of  the  bells! 

m 

Hear  the  loud  alarum  bells  — 

Brazen  bells! 

What  a  tale  of  terror,  now,  their  turbulency  tellsj 
In  the  startled  ear  of  Night 
How  they  scream  out  their  affright! 
Too  much  horrified  to  speak, 
They  can  only  shriek,  shriek, 

Out  of  .tune, 

In  a  clamorous  appealing  .to  the  mercy  of  the  fire, 
In  a  mad  expostulation  with  the  deaf  and  frantic 
fire 

Leaping  higher,  'higher,  higher, 
With  a  desperate  desire, 
And  a  resolute  endeavour 
Now  —  now  to  sit,  .or  never, 
By  the  side  of  the  pale-faced  moon. 
Oh,  the  bells,  bells,  bells! 
What  a  tale  their  terror  tells 
Of  despair! 


THE   BELLS  65 

How  they  clang,  and  clash,  and  roar! 
What  a  horror  they  outpour 
On  the  bosom  of  the  palpitating  air! 
Yet  the  ear,  it  fully  knows, 
By  the  twanging, 
And  the  clanging, 
How  the  danger  ebbs  and  flows; 
Yes,  the  ear  distinctly  tells, 
In  the  jangling, 
And  the  wrangling, 
How  the  danger  sinks  and  swells, 
By  the  sinking  or  the  swelling  in  the  anger  of  the 
bells  — 

Of  the  bells  — 

Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 
Bells,  bells,  bells  — 
In  the  clamor  and  the  clangor  of  the  bells! 


Hear  the  tolling  of  the  bells  — 

Iron  bells! 

What  a  world  of  solemn  thought  their  monody 
compels! 

In  the  silence  of  the  night, 
How  we  shiver  with  affright 
At  the  melancholy  menace  of  their  tone! 
For  every  sound  that  floats 
From  the  rust  within  their  throats 

Is  a  groan. 

And  the  people  —  ah,  the  people  — 
They  that  dwell  up  in  the  steeple, 
All  alone, 


66  LATER   POEMS 

And  who,  tolling,  tolling,  tolling, 

In  that  muffled  monotone, 
Feel  a  glory  in  so  rolling 

On  the  human  heart  a  stone  — 
They  are  neither  man  nor  woman  — 
They  are  neither  brute  nor  human  — 

They  are  Ghouls:  — 
And  their  king  it  is  who  tolls:  — 
And  he  rolls,  rolls,  rolls, 

Ketis 

A  Paean  from  the -bcHs! 
And  his  merry  bosom  swells 
With  the  Paean  of  the  bells!      ' 
And  he  dances  and  he  yells; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 
TcUhe  £a»a-of--the-bells  — 

Of  the  bells:  — 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, v 

To  the  throbbing  of  the  bells -^ 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells  — 

To  the  sobbing  of  the  bells:  — 
Keeping  tkne,  time,  time, 

As  he  knells,  knells,  knells, 
la  a  happy  Runic  .rhyme, 
To  the  rolling  of  the  bells  — 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells:  —  ' 
To  the  tolling  of  the  bells  — 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells  — 
To  the  moaning  and  the  groaning  of  the  bells. 


TO  M.  L.  S 

OF  all  who  hail  thy  presence  as  the  morning^— 

Of  all  to  whom  thine  absence  is  the  night  — 

The,  blotting  utterly  from  out  high  heaven 

The  sacred  sun  —  of  all  who,  weeping,  bless  thee 

Hourly  for  hope  —  for  life  —  ah,  above  all, 

For  the  resurrection  of  deep-buried  faith 

In  truth,  in  virtue,  in  humanity  — 

Of  all  who,  on  despair's  unhallowed  bed 

Lying  down  to  die,  have  suddenly  arisen 

At  thy  soft-murmured  words,  "Let  there  be  light!" 

At  the  soft-murmured  words  that  were  fulfilled 

In  the  seraphic  glancing  of  thine  eyes  — 

Of  all  who  owe  thee  most,  whose  gratitude 

Nearest  resembles  worship,  —  oh,  remember 

The  truest,  the  most  fervently  devoted, 

And  think  that  these  weak  lines  are  written  by  him—'' 

By  him,  who,  as  he  pens  them,  thrills  to  think 

His  spirit  is  communing  with  an  angel's.  „ 


TO 

NOT  long  ago,  the  writer  of  these  lines, 

In  the  mad  pride  of  intellectuality, 

Maintained  "the  power  of  words"  —  denied  that  ever 

A  thought  arose  within  the  human  brain 

Beyond  the  utterance  of  the  human  tongue; 

And  now,  as  if  in  mockery  of  that  boast, 

Two  words  —  two  foreign  soft  dissyllables  — 

Italian  tones  made  only  to  be  murmured 

By  angels  dreaming  in  the  moonlit  "dew 

That  hangs  like  chains  of  pearl  on  Hermon  hill "  — 

Have  stirred  from  out  the  abysses  of  his  heart, 

Unthought-like  thoughts  that  are  the  souls  of  though^ 

Richer,  far  wilder,  far  diviner  visions 

Than  even  the  seraph  harper,  Israfel, 

Who  has  "the  sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures," 

Could  hope  to  utter.  And  I!  my  spells  are  broken. 

The  pen  falls  powerless  from  my  shivering  hand. 

With  thy  dear  name  as  text,  though  bidden  by  thee, 

I  cannot  write  —  I  cannot  speak  or  think, 

Alas,  I  cannot  feel;  for  'tis  not  feeling, 

This  standing  motionless  upon  the  golden 

Threshold  of  the  wide-open  gate  of  dreams, 

Gazing,  entranced,  adown  the  gorgeous  vista, 

And  thrilling  as  I  see  upon  the  right, 

Upon  the  left,  and  all  the  way  along 

Amid  empurpled  vapors,  far  away 

To  where  the  prospect  terminates  —  thee  only. 


SONNET1 

"SELDOM  we  find,"  says  Solomon  Don  Dunce, 
"Half  an  idea  in  the  profoundest  sonnet. 
Through  all  the  flimsy  things  we  see  at  once 
As  easily  as  through  a  Naples  bonnet  — 
Trash  of  all  trash!  —  how  can  a  lady  don  it? 
Yet  heavier  far  than  your  Petrarchan  stuff  — 
Owl-downy  nonsense  that  the  faintest  puff 

Twirls  into  trunk-paper  the  while  you  con  it." 
And,  veritably,  Sol  is  right  enough. 
The  general  Petrarchanities  are  arrant 
Bubbles  —  ephemeral  and  so  transparent  — 

But  this  is,  now,  —  you  may  depend  upon  it  — • 
Stable,  opaque,  immortal  —  all  by  dint 
Of  the  dear  names  that  lie  concealed  within  't. 

1  The  title  in  all  other  editions  of  Foe's  poems  is,  "An 
Enigma." 


TO » 

I  SAW  thee  once  —  once  only  —  years  ago: 

I  must  not  say  how  many  —  but  not  many.' 

It  was  a  July  midnight;  and  from  out 

A  full-orbed  moon,  that,  like  thine  own  soul,  soaring, 

Sought  a  precipitant  pathway  up  through  heaven, 

There  fell  a  silvery-silken  veil  of  light, 

With  quietude,  and  sultriness,  and  slumber, 

Upon  the  upturn'd  faces  of  a  thousand 

Roses  that  grew  in  an  enchanted  garden, 

Where  no  wind  dared  to  stir,  unless  on  tip-toe  — . 

Fell  on  the  upturn'd  faces  of  these  roses 

That  gave  out,  in  return  for  the  love-light, 

Their  odorous  souls  in  an  ecstatic  death  — 

Fell  on  the  upturn'd  faces  of  these  roses 

That  smiled  and  died  in  this  parterre,  enchanted 

By  thee  and  by  the  poetry  of  thy  presence. 

Clad  all  in  white,  upon  a  violet  bank 
I  saw  thee  half  reclining;  while  the  moon 
Fell  on  the  upturn'd  faces  of  the  roses, 
And  on  thine  own,  upturn'd  —  alas!  hi  sorrow! 

Was  it  not  Fate  that,  on  this  July  midnight  — 
Was  it  not  Fate  (whose  name  is  also  Sorrow) 
That  bade  me  pause  before  that  garden-gate 
To  breathe  the  incense  of  those  slumbering  roses? 
No  footstep  stirred:  the  hated  world  all  slept, 

1  The  title  in  all  other  editions  of  Poe's  'poems  is,  "To 
Helen." 


TO 71 

Save  only  thee  and  me.   I  paused  — 'I  looked  — 
And  in  an  instant  all  things  disappeared. 
(Ah,  bear  in  mind  this  garden  was  enchanted!) 
,The  pearly  lustre  of  the  moon  went  out: 
The  mossy  banks  and  the  meandering  paths, 
The  happy  flowers  and  the  repining  trees, 
Were  seen  no  more:  the  very  roses'  odors 
Died  in  the  arms  of  the  adoring  airs. 
All  —  all  expired  save  thee  —  save  less  than  thou: 
Save  only  the  divine  light  in  thine  eyes  — 
Save  but  the  soul  in  thine  uplifted  eyes. 
I  saw  but  them  —  they  were  the  world  to  me. 
I  saw  but  them  —  saw  only  them  for  hours  — 
Saw  only  them  until  the  moon  went  down. 
What  wild  heart-histories  seemed  to  lie  enwritten 
Upon  those  crystalline,  celestial  spheres! 
How  dark  a  wo!  yet  how  sublime  a  hope! 
How  silently  serene  a  sea  of  pride! 
How  daring  an  ambition !  yet  how  deep  — 
How  fathomless  a  capacity  for  love! 

But  now,  at  length,  dear  Dian  sank  from  sight, 
Into  a  western  couch  of  thunder-cloud, 
And  thou,  a  ghost,  amid  the  entombing  trees 
Didst  glide  away.  Only  thine  eyes  remained. 
They  would  not  go  —  they  never  yet  have  gone. 
Lighting  my  lonely  pathway  home  that  night, 
They  have  not  left  me  (as  my  hopes  have)  since. 
They  follow  me  —  they  lead  me  through  the  years. 
They  are  my  ministers  —  yet  I  their  slave. 
Their  office  is  to  illumine  and  enkindle  — 
My  duty  to  be  saved  by  their  bright  light 
And  purified  in  their  electric  fire — 


72  (  LATER  POEMS  ', 

And  sanctified  in  their  elysian  fire. 
They  fill  my  soul  with  Beauty  (which  is  Hope) 
And  are  far  up  in  Heaven,  the  stars  I  kneel  to 
In  the  sad,  silent  watches  of  my  night; 
While  even  in  the  meridian  glare  of  day 
I  see  them  still  —  two  sweetly  scintillant 
Venuses,  unextinguished  by  the  sun! 


FOR  ANNIE  75 

Have  ceased  with  the  fever 

That  maddened  my  brain  — 

With  the  fever  called  "Living" 
That  burned  in  my  brain. 

And  oh!  of  all  tortures 

That  torture  the  worst 
Has  abated  —  the  terrible 

Torture  of  thirst 
For  the  napthaline  river 

Of  Passion  accurst:  — 
I  have  drank  of  a  water 

That  quenches  all  thirst:  — 

Of  a  water  that  flows, 

With  a  lullaby  sound, 
From  a  spring  but  a  very  few 

Feet  under  ground  — 
From  a  cavern  not  very  far 

Down  under  ground. 

But  ah!  let  it  never 

Be  foolishly  said 
That  my  room  it  is  gloomy 

And  narrow  my  bed; 
For  man  never  slept 

In  a  different  bed  — 
And,  to  sleep,  you  must  slumbet 

In  just  such  a  bed. 

My  tantalized  spirit 

Here  blandly  reposes, 
Forgetting,  or  never 

Regretting,  its  roses  — 


76  LATER   POEMS 

Its  old  agitations 

Of  myrtles  and  roses: 

For  now,  while  so  quietly 

Lying,  it  fancies 
A  holier  odor 

About  it,  of  pansies  — 
A  rosemary  odor, 

Commingled  with  pansies—, 
With  rue  and  the  beautiful 

Puritan  pansies. 

And  so  it  lies  happily, 

Bathing  in  many 
A  dream  of  the  truth 

And  the  beauty  of  Annie  -— 
Drowned  in  a  bath 

Of  the  tresses  of  Annie. 

She  tenderly  kissed  me, 
She  fondly  caressed, 

And  then  I  fell  gently 

To  sleep  on  her  breast  — 

Deeply  to  sleep 

From  the  heaven  of  her  breast. 

When  the  light  was  extinguished, 
She  covered  me  warm, 

And  she  prayed  to  the  angels 
To  keep  me  from  harm  — 

To  the  queen  of  the  angels 
To  shield  me  from  harm. 


FOR  ANNIE  77 

And  I  lie  so  composedly, 

Now,  in  my  bed, ' 
(Knowing  her  love) ' 

That  you  fancy  me  dead  — 
And  I  rest  so  contentedly, 

Now,  in  my  bed, 
(With  her  love  at  my  breast) 

That  you  fancy  me  dead  — 
That  you  shudder  to  look  at  me, 

Thinking  me  dead:  — 

But  my  heart  it  is  brighter 

Than  all  of  the  many 
Stars  in  the  sky, 

For  it  sparkles  with  Annie  — 
It  glows  with  the  light 

Of  the  love  of  my  Annie  — 
With  the  thought  of  the  light 

Of  the  eyes  of  my  Annie. 


SONNET  — TO  MY  MOTHER 

BECAUSE  the  angels  in  the  Heavens  above, 

Devoutly  singing  unto  one  another, 
Can  find  amid  their  burning  terms  of  love, 

None  so  devotional  as  that  of  "mother," 
Therefore  by  that  sweet  name  I  long  have  called  you; 

You  who  are  more  than  mother  unto  me, 
Filling  my  heart  of  hearts,  where  God  installed  you, 

In  setting  my  Virginia's  spirit  free. 
My  mother  —  my  own  mother,  who  died  early, 

Was  but  the  mother  of  myself;  but  you 
Are  mother  to  the  dead  I  loved  so  dearly, 

Are  thus  more  precious  than  the  one  I  knew, 
By  that  infinity  with  which  my  wife 

Was  dearer  to  my  soul  than  its  soul  life. 


ELDORADO 

GAILY  bedight, 

A  gallant  knight, 
In  sunshine  and  in  shadow, 

Had  journeyed  long, 

Singing  a  song, 
In  search  of  Eldorado. 

But  he  grew  old  — 

This  knight  so  bold  — 
And  o'er  his  heart  a  shadow 

Fell,  as  he  found 

No  spot  of  ground 
That  looked  like  Eldorado. 

And,  as  his  strength 
Failed  him  at  length, 

He  met  a  pilgrim  shadow  — 
"Shadow,"  said  he, 
"  Where  can  it  be  — 

This  land  of  Eldorado?" 

"Over  the  Mountains 

Of  the  Moon, 
Down  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow, 

Ride,  boldly  ride," 

The  shade  replied,  — 
"If  you  seek  for  Eldoradol" 


ANNABEL  LEE 

IT  was  many  and  many  a  year  ago, 

In  a  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
That  a  maiden  there  lived  whom  you  may  know 

By  the  name  of  Annabel  Lee;  — 
And  this  maiden  she  lived  with  no  other  thought 

Than  to  love  and  be  loved  by  me. 

She  was  a  child  and  7  was  a  child, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
But  we  loved  with  a  love  that  was  more  than  love 

I  and  my  Annabel  Lee  — 
With  a  love  that  the  winged  seraphs  of  Heaven 

Coveted  her  and  me. 

And  this  was  the  reason  that,  long  ago, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
A  wind  blew  out  of  a  cloud,  by  night 

Chilling  my  Annabel  Lee; 
So  that  her  high-born  kinsmen  came 

And  bore  her  away  from  me, 
To  shut  her  up  in  a  sepulchre 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea. 

The  angels,  not  lialf  so  happy  in  Heaven, 

Went  envying  her  and  me:  — 
Yes!  that  was  the  reason  (as  all  men  know, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea) 
That  the  wind  came  out  of  the  cloud,  chilling 

And  killing  my  Annabel  Lee. 


ANNABEL  LEE  8 1 

But  our  love  it  was  stronger  by  far  than  the  love 

Of  those  who  were  older  than  we  — 

Of  many  far  wiser  than  we  — 
And  neither  the  angels  in  Heaven  above, 

Nor  the  demons  down  under  the  sea, 
Can  ever  dissever  my  soul  from  the  soul 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee,:  — 

For  the  moon  never  beams  without  bringing  me  dreams 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee; 
And  the  stars  never  rise  but  I  see  the  bright  eyes 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee; 
And  so,  all  the  night-tide,  I  lie  down  by  the  side 
Of  my  darling,  my  darling,  my  life  and  my  bride 

In  her  sepulchre  there  by  the  sea  — 

In  her  tomb  by  the  sounding  sea. 


ULALUME  — A  BALLAD 

THE  skies  they  were  ashen  and  sober; 

The  leaves  they  were  crisped  and  sere  — 

The  leaves  they  were  withering  and  sere: 
It  was  night,  in  the  lonesome  October 

Of  my  most  immemorial  year: 
It  was  hard  by  the  dim  lake  of  Auber, 

In  the  misty  mid  region  of  Weir  — 
It  was  down  by  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 

In  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir. 

Here  once,  through  an  alley  Titanic, 

Of  cypress,  I  roamed  with  my  Soul  — 
Of  cypress,  with  Psyche,  my  Soul. 

These  were  days  when  my  heart  was  volcanic 
As  the  scoriae  rivers  that  roll  — 
As  the  lavas  that  restlessly  roll 

Their  sulphurous  currents  down  Yaanek 
In  the  ultimate  climes  of  the  Pole  — 

That  groan  as  they  roll  down  Mount  Yaanek 
In  the  realms  of  the  Boreal  Pole. 

Our  talk  had  been  serious  and  sober, 

But  our  thoughts  they  were  palsied  and  sere 
Our  memories  were  treacherous  and  sere; 

For  we  knew  not  the  month  was  October, 

And  we  marked  not  the  night  of  the  year  — 
(Ah,  night  of  all  nights  in  the  year!) 

We  noted  not  the  dim  lake  of  Auber, 

(Though  once  we  had  journeyed  down  here) 


ULALUME  —  A^BALLAD 

We  remembered  not  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 
Nor  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir.  4 

' 
And  now,  as  the  night  was  senescent 

And  star-dials  pointed  to  morn  — 

As  the  star-dials  hinted  of  morn  — 
At  the  end  of  our  path  a  liquescent 

And  nebulous  lustre  was  born, 
Out  of  which  a  miraculous  crescent 

.Arose  with  a  duplicate  horn  — 
Astarte's  bediamonded  crescent 

Distinct  with  its  duplicate  horn. 

And  I  said  —  "She  is  warmer  than  Dian; 

She  rolls  through  an  ether  of  sighs  — 

She  revels  in  a  region  of  sighs  — 
She  has  seen  that  the  tears  are  not  dry  on  " 

These  cheeks,  where  the  worm  never  dies, 
And  has  come  past  the  stars  of  the  Lion 

To  point  us  the  path  to  the  skies  — 

To  the  Lethean  peace  of  the  skies  —  j 
Come  up,  in  despite  of  the  Lion, 

To  shine  on  us  with  her  bright  eyes  — ;• 
Come  up  through  the  lair  of  the  Lion, 

With  love  in  her  luminous  eyes." 

But  Psyche,  uplifting  her  finger, 

Said  —  "Sadly  this  star  I  mistrust  — 
Her  pallor  I  strangely  mistrust  — 

Ah,  hasten!  —  Ah,  let  us  not  linger! 

Ah,  fly!  —  let  us  fly!  —  for  we  must." 

In  terror  she  spoke,  letting  sink  her 

Wings  till  they  trailed  in  the  dust  — j 


84  LATER  POEMS 

In  agony  sobbed;  letting  sink  her 

Plumes  till  they  trailed  in  the  dust  — 
Till  they  sorrowfully  trailed  in  the  dust. 

I  replied  —  "This  is  nothing  but  dreaming: 

Let  us  on  by  this  tremulous  light! 

Let  us  bathe  in  this  crystalline  light! 
Its  Sybillic  splendor  is  beaming 

With  Hope  and  in  Beauty  to-night:  — 

See!  it  flickers  up  the  sky  through  the  night! 
Ah,  we  safely  may  trust  to  its  gleaming, 

And  be  sure  it  will  lead  us  aright  — 
We  surely  may  trust  to  a  gleaming, 

That  cannot  but  guide  us  aright, 

Since  it  flickers  up  to  Heaven  through  the  night." 

Thus  I  pacified  Psyche  and  kissed  her, 
And  tempted  her  out  of  her  gloom  — 
And  conquered  her  scruples  and  gloom; 

And  we  passed  to  the  end  of  a  vista, 

But  were  stopped  by  the  door  of  a  tomb  — 
By  the  door  of  a  legended  tomb; 

And  I  said  —  "  What  is  written,  sweet  sister, ' 
On  the  door  of  this  legended  tomb? " 
She  replied  —  "Ulalume  —  Ulalume!  — 
T  is  the  vault  of  thy  lost  Ulalume!" 

Then  my  heart  it  grew  ashen  and  sober 
As  the  leaves  that  were  crisped  and  sere  — 

As  the  leaves  that  were  withering  and  sere; 
And  I  cried  —  "It  was  surely  October 

On  this  very  night  of  last  year 

That  I  journeyed  —  I  journeyed  down  here!  — 


ULALUME  —  A    BALLAD  8$ 

That  I  brought  a  dread  burden  down  here  — 
On  this  night  of  all  nights  in  the  year, 
Ah !  what  demon  hath  tempted  me  here  ? 

Well  I  know,  now,  this  dim  lake  of  Auber  — 
This  misty  mid  region  of  Weir  — 

Well  I  know,  now,  this  dank  tarn  of  Auber  — 
This  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir." 

Said  we,  then  —  the  two,  then  —  "Ah,  can  it 
Have  been  that  the  woodlandish  ghouls — 
The  pitiful,  the  Merciful  ghouls  — 

To  bar  up  our  way  and  to  ban  it 

From  the  secret  that  lies  in  these  wolds  — 
From  the  thing  that  lies  hidden  in  these  wolds  — - 

Have  drawn  up  the  spectre  of  a  planet 
From  the  limbo  of  lunary  souls, 

This  sinfully  scintillant  planet 

From  the  Hell  of  the  planetary  souls?" 


POEMS   WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 


PRIVATE  reasons  —  some  of  which  have  reference  to 
the  sin  of  plagiarism,  and  others  to  the  date  of  Tenny 
son's  first  poems  —  have  induced  me,  after  some  hesi 
tation,  to  re-publish  these,  the  crude  compositions  of 
my  earliest  boyhood.  They  are  printed  verbatim — with 
out  alteration  from  the  original  edition  —  the  date  of 
which  is  too  remote  to  be  judiciously  acknowledged. 

E.  A.  P. 

Note  by  Poe,  prefixed  to  "  Poems  Written  in  Youth"  in  the 
Edition  of  1845. 


POE'S    DESK 

Used  by  him  at  office  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger 


POEMS  WRITTEN   IN  YOUTH 


TAMERLANE 

KIND  solace  in  a  dying  hour! 

Such,  father,  is  not  (now)  my  theme  - 
I  will  not  madly  deem  that  power 

Of  Earth  may  shrive  me  of  the  sin 
Unearthly  pride  hath  revell'd  in  — 

I  have  no  time  to  dote  or  dream: 
You  call  it  hope  —  that  fire  of  fire! 
It  is  but  agony  of  desire: 
If  I  can  hope  —  Oh  God!  I  can  — 

Its  fount  is  holier  —  more  divine  — 
I  would  not  call  thee  fool,  old  man, 

But  such  is  not  a  gift  of  thine. 

Know  thou  the  secret  of  a  spirit 

Bow'd  from  its  wild  pride  into  shame. 
O  yearning  heart!  I  did  inherit 

Thy  withering  portion  with  the  fame, 
The  searing  glory  which  hath  shone 
Amid  the  Jewels  of  my  throne, 
Halo  of  Hell !  and  with  a  pain 
Not  hell  shall  make  me  fear  again  — 

O  craving  heart,  for  the  lost  flowers 
And  sunshine  of  my  summer  hours ! 
The  undying  voice  of  that  dead  time, 
With  its  interminable  chime, 


9O       POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 

Rings,  in  the  spirit  of  a  spell, 
Upon  thy  emptiness  —  a  knell. 

I  have  not  always  been  as  now: 
The  fever'd  diadem  on  my  brow 

I  claim'd  and  won  usurpingly 

,  Hath  not  the  same  fierce  heirdom  given 
Rome  to  the  Caesar  —  this  to  me? 
The  heritage  of  a  kingly  mind, 
And  a  proud  spirit  which  hath  striven 
Triumphantly  with  human  kind. 

On  mountain  soil  I  first  drew  life: 
The  mists  of  the  Taglay  have  shed 
Nightly  their  dews  upon  my  head, 

And,  I  believe,  the  winged  strife 

And  tumult  of  the  headlong  air 

Have  nestled  in  my  very  hair. 

So  late  from  Heaven  —  that  dew  —  it  fell 

('Mid  dreams  of  an  unholy  night) 
Upon  me  with  the  touch  of  Hell, 

While  the  red  flashing  of  the  light 
From  clouds  that  hung,  like  banners,  o'er, 

Appeared  to  my  half-closing  eye 

The  pageantry  of  monarchy, 
And  the  deep  trumpet-thunder's  roar 

Came  hurriedly  upon  me,  telling 
Of  human  battle,  where  my  voice, 

My  own  voice,  silly  child !  —  was  swelling 

(O!  how  my  spirit  would  rejoice, 
And  leap  within  me  at  the  cry) 
The  battle-cry  of  Victory! 


TAMERLANE  9! 

The  rain  came  down  upon  my  head 
Unshelter'd  —  and  the  heavy  wind 
Rendered  me  mad  and  deaf  and  blind. 

It  was  but  man,  I  thought,  who  shed 
Laurels  upon  me:  and  the  rush  — 

The  torrent  of  the  chilly  air 

Gurgled  within  my  ear  the  crush 
Of  empires  —  with  the  captive's  prayer  — - 

The  hum  of  suitors  —  and  the  tone 

Of  flattery  'round  a  sovereign's  throne. 

My  passions,  from  that  hapless  hour, 

Usurp'd  a  tyranny  which  men 
Have  deem'd,  since  I  have  reach'd  to  power, 
My  innate  nature  —  be  it  so: 

But,  father,  there  liv'd  one  who,  then, 
Then  —  in  my  boyhood  —  when  their  fire 

Burn'd  with  a  still  intenser  glow 
(For  passion  must,  with  youth,  expire) 

E'en  then  who  knew  this  iron  heart 

In  woman's  weakness  had  a  part. 

I  have  no  words  —  alas!  —  to  tell 
The  loveliness  of  loving  well ! 
Nor  would  I  now  attempt  to  trace 
The  more  than  beauty  of  a  face 
Whose  lineaments,  upon  my  mind, 

Are shadows  on  th'  unstable  wind: 

Thus  I  remember  having  dwelt 

Some  page  of  early  lore  upon, 
With  faltering  eye,  till  I  have  felt 
The  letters  —  with  their  meaning  —  melt 

To  fantasies  —  with  none. 


92       POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 

O,  she  was  worthy  of  all  love! 

Love  —  as  in  infancy  was  mine  — 
*T  was  such  as  angel  minds  above 

Might  envy;  her  young  heart  the  shrine 
On  which  my  every  hope  and  thought 

Were  incense  —  then  a  goodly  gift, 

For  they  were  childish  and  upright  — 
Pure as  her  young  example  taught: 

Why  did  I  leave  it,  and,  adrift, 
Trust  to  the  fire  within,  for  light? 

We  grew  in  age  —  and  love  —  together  — 
Roaming  the  forest,  and  the  wild; 

My  breast  her  shield  in  wintry  weather  — 
And,  when  the  friendly  sunshine  smil'd, 

And  she  would  mark  the  opening  skies, 

/  saw  no  Heaven  —  but  in  her  eyes. 

Young  Love's  first  lesson  is the  heart: 

For  'mid  that  sunshine,  and  those  smiles, 
When,  from  our  little  cares  apart, 

And  laughing  at  her  girlish  wiles, 
I  'd  throw  me  on  her  throbbing  breast, 

And  pour  my  spirit  out  in  tears  — 
There  was  no  need  to  speak  the  rest  — 

No  need  to  quiet  any  fears 
Of  her  —  who  ask'd  no  reason  why, 
But  tura'd  on  me  her  quiet  eye! 

Yet  more  than  worthy  of  the  love 
My  spirit  struggled  with,  and  strove, 
When,  on  the  mountain  peak,  alone, 
Ambition  lent  it  a  new  tone  — 


J 


TAMERLANE  93 

I  had  no  being  —  but  in  thee: 

The  world,  and  all  it  did  contain 
In  the  earth  —  the  air  —  the  sea  — 

Its  joy  —  its  little  lot  of  pain 
That  was  new  pleasure the  ideal, 

Dim,  vanities  of  dreams  by  night  — 
And  dimmer  nothings  which  were  real  — 

(Shadows  —  and  a  more  shadowy  light!) 
Parted  upon  their  misty  wings, 
And,  so,  confusedly,  became 
Thine  image  and  —  a  name  —  a  name! 
Two  separate  —  yet  most  intimate  things. 

I  was  ambitious  —  have  you  known 

The  passion,  father?  You  have  not: 
A  cottager,  I  mark'd  a  throne 
Of  half  the  world  as  all  my  own, 

And  murmur'd  at  such  lowly  lot  — 
But,  just  like  any  other  dream, 

Upon  the  vapor  of  the  dew 
My  own  had  past,  did  not  the  beam, 

Of  beauty  which  did  while  it  thro* 
The  minute  —  the  hour  —  the  day  —  oppress 

My  mind  with  double  loveliness. 

• 

We  walk'd  together  on  the  crown 

Of  a  high  mountain  which  look'd  down 

Afar  from  its  proud  natural  towers 

Of  rock  and  forest,  on  the  hills  — 
The  dwindled  hills!  begirt  with  bowers 

And  shouting  with  a  thousand  rills. 

I  spoke  to  her  of  power  and  pride, 
But  mystically  —  in  such  guise 


94      POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 

That  she  might  deem  it  nought  beside 

The  moment's  converse;  in  her  eyes 
I  read,  perhaps  too  carelessly  — 

A  mingled  feeling  with  my  own  — 
The  flush  on  her  bright  cheek,  to  me 

Seem'd  to  become  a  queenly  throne 
Too  well  that  I  should  let  it  be 

Light  in  the  wilderness  alone. 

I  wrapp'd  myself  hi  grandeur  then 

And  donn'd  a  visionary  crown 

Yet  it  was  not  that  Fantasy 
Had  thrown  her  mantle  over  me  — 
,But  that,  among  the  rabble  —  men, 

Lion  ambition  is  chain'd  down  — 
And  crouches  to  a  keeper's  hand  — 
Not  so  in  deserts  where  the  grand  — 
The  wild  —  the  terrible  conspire 
With  their  own  breath  to  fan  his  fire. 
Look  'round  thee  now  on  Samarcand !  — 

Is  she  not  queen  of  Earth?  her  pride 
Above  all  cities?  in  her  hand 

Their  destinies?  in  all  beside 
Of  glory  which  the  world  hath  known 
Stands  she  not  nobly  and  alone? 
Falling  —  her  veriest  stepping-stone 
Shall  form  the  pedestal  of  a  throne  — 
And  who  her  sovereign  ?  Timour  —  he 

Whom  the  astonished  people  saw 
Striding  o'er  empires  haughtily 

A  diadem 'd  outlaw! 

O,  human  love!  thou  spirit  given, 
On  Earth,  of  all  we  hope  in  Heaven! 


TAMERLANE  95 

Which  fall'st  into  the  soul  like  rain 
Upon  the  Siroc-wither'd  plain, 
And,  failing  in  thy  power  to  bless, 
But  leav'st  the  heart  a  wilderness! 
Idea!  which  bindest  life  around 
With  music  of  so  strange  a  sound 
And  beauty  of  so  wild  a  birth  — 
Farewell!  for  I  have  won  the  Earth. 

When  Hope,  the  eagle  that  tower'd,  could  see 

No  cliff  beyond  him  in  the  sky, 
His  pinions  were  bent  droopingly  — 

And  homeward  turn'd  his  soften'd  eye. 
'T  was  sunset:  when  the  sun  will  part 
There  conies  a  sullenness  of  heart 
To  him  who  still  would  look  upon 
The  glory  of  the  summer  sun. 
That  soul  will  hate  the  ev'ning  mist 
So  often  lovely,  and  will  list 
To  the  sound  of  the  coming  darkness  (known 
To  those  whose  spirits  harken)  as  one 
Who,  in  a  dream  of  night,  would  fly 
But  cannot  from  a  danger  nigh. 

What  tho'  the  moon  —  the  white  moon 
Shed  all  the  splendor  of  her  noon, 
Her  smile  is  chilly  —  and  her  beam, 
In  that  time  of  dreariness,  will  seem 
(So  like  you  gather  in  your  breath) 
A  portrait  taken  after  death. 

And  boyhood  is  a  summer  sun 
Whose  waning  is  the  dreariest  one  — 


96       POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 

For  all  we  live  to  know  is  known 
And  all  we  seek  to  keep  hath  flown  — 
Let  life,  then,  as  the  day-flower,  fall 
With  the  noon-day  beauty  —  which  is  all. 


I  reach 'd  my  home  —  my  home  no  more 
For  all  had  flown  who  made  it  so. 

I  pass'd  from  out  its  mossy  door, 
And,  tho'  my  tread  was  soft  and  low, 

A  voice  came  from  the  threshold  stone 

Of  one  whom  I  had  earlier  known  —  , 
O,  I  defy  thee,  Hell,  to  show 
On  beds  of  fire  that  burn  below, 
An  humbler  heart  —  a  deeper  wo. 

Father,  I  firmly  do  believe  — 
I  know  —  for  Death  who  comes  for  me 

From  regions  of  the  blest  afar, 
Where  there  is  nothing  to  deceive, 

Hath  left  his  iron  gate  ajar, 
And  rays  of  truth  you  cannot  see 

Are  flashing  thro'  Eternity 

I  do  believe  that  Eblis  hath 
A  snare  in  every  human  path  — 
Else  how,  when  in  the  holy  grove 
I  wandered  of  the  idol,  Love, 
Who  daily  scents  his  snowy  wings 
With  incense  of  burnt  offerings 
From  the  most  unpolluted  things, 
Whose  pleasant  bowers  are  yet  so  riven 
Above  with  trellis'd  rays  from  Heaven 
No  mote  may  shun  —  no  tiniest  fly  — 


TAMERLANE  97 

The  lightening  of  his  eagle  eye  — 
How  was  it  that  Ambition  crept, 

Unseen,  amid  the  revels  there, 
Till  growing  bold,  he  laughed  and  leapt 

In  the  tangles  of  Love's  very  hair? 


SONNET  — TO  SCIENCE 

SCIENCE!  true  daughter  of  Old  Time  thou  art! 

Who  alterest  all  things  with  thy  peering  eyes. 
Why  preyest  thou  thus  upon  the  poet's  heart, 

Vulture,  whose  wings  are  dull  realities? 
How  should  he  love  thee?  or  how  deem  thee  wise, 

Who  wouldst  not  leave  him  in  his  wandering 
To  seek  for  treasure  in  the  jewelled  skies, 

Albeit  he  soared  with  an  undaunted  wing? 
Hast  thou  not  dragged  Diana  from  her  car? 

And  driven  the  Hamadryad  from  the  wood 
To  seek  a  shelter  in  some  happier  star? 

Hast  thou  not  torn  the  Naiad  from  her  flood, 
The  Elfin  from  the  green  grass,  and  from  me 
The  summer  dream  beneath  the  tamarind  tree? 


ROSALIE  POE 


AL  AARAAF* 

PARTI 

O!  NOTHING  earthly  save  the  ray 

(Thrown  back  from  flowers)  of  Beauty's  eye, 

As  in  those  gardens  where  the  day 

Springs  from  the  gems  of  Circassy  — 

O!  nothing  earthly  save  the  thrill 

Of  melody  in  woodland  rill  — 

Or  (music  of  the  passion-hearted) 

Joy's  voice  so  peacefully  departed 

That  like  the  murmur  in  the  shell, 

Its  echo  dwelleth  and  will  dwell  — 

Oh,  nothing  of  the  dross  of  ours  — 

Yet  all  the  beauty  —  all  the  flowers 

That  list  our  Love,  and  deck  our  bowers  — 

Adorn  yon  world  afar,  afar  — 

The  wandering  star. 

'T  was  a  sweet  time  for  Nesace  —  for  there 
Her  world  lay  lolling  on  the  golden  air, 
Near  four  bright  suns  —  a  temporary  rest  — 
An  oasis  in  desert  of  the  blest. 
Away  —  away  —  'mid  seas  of  rays  that  roll 
Empyrean  splendor  o'er  th'  unchained  soul  — 
The  soul  that  scarce  (the  billows  are  so  dense) 
Can  struggle  to  its  destin'd  eminence  — 

*  A  star  was  discovered  by  Tycho  Brahe  which  appeared  sud 
denly  in  the  heavens  —  attained,  in  a  few  days,  a  brilliancy  sur 
passing  that  of  Jupiter  —  then  as  suddenly  disappeared,  and  haa 
never  been  seen  since. 


IOO  POEMS  WRITTEN   IN   YOUTH 

To  distant  spheres,  from  time  to  time,  she  rode, 
And  late  to  ours,  the  favour'd  one  of  God  — 
But,  now,  the  ruler  of  an  anchor'd  realm, 
She  throws  aside  the  sceptre  —  leaves  the  helm, 
And,  amid  incense  and  high  spiritual  hymns, 
Laves  in  quadruple  light  her  angel  limbs. 

Now  happiest,  loveliest  in  yon  lovely  Earth, 
Whence  sprang  the  "Idea  of  Beauty"  into  birth, 
(Falling  in  wreaths  thro'  many  a  startled  star, 
Like  woman's  hair  'mid  pearls,  until,  afar, 
It  lit  en  hills  Achaian,  and  there  dwelt) 
She  look'd  into  Infinity  —  and  knelt. 
Rich  clouds,  for  canopies,  about  her  curled  — 
Fit  emblems  of  the  model  of  her  world  — 
Seen  but  in  beauty  —  not  impeding  sight 
Of  other  beauty  glittering  thro'  the  light  — 
A  wreath  that  twined  each  starry  form  around, 
And  all  the  opal'd  air  in  color  bound. 

All  hurriedly  she  knelt  upon  a  bed 
Of  flowers:  of  lilies  such  as  rear'd  the  head 

•  On  the  fair  Capo  Deucato,  and  sprang 
So  eagerly  around  about  to  hang 

Upon  the  flying  footsteps  of deep  pride  — 

t  Of  her  who  lov'd  a  mortal  —  and  so  died. 
The  Sephalica,  budding  with  young  bees, 
Uprear'd  its  purple  stem  around  her  knees: 
$  And  gemmy  flower,  of  Trebizond  misnam'd  — 

*  On  Santa  Maura  —  olim  Deucadia. 
t  Sappho. 

t  This  flower  is  much  noticed  by  Lewenhoeck  and  Tournefort 
The  bee,  feeding  upon  its  blossom,  becomes  intoxicated. 


AL  AARAAF  IOI 

Inmate  of  highest  stars,  where  erst  it  sham'd 
All  other  loveliness:  its  honied  dew 
(The  fabled  nectar  that  the  heathen  knew) 
Deliriously  sweet,  was  dropp'd  from  Heaven, 
And  fell  on  gardens  of  the  unforgiven 
In  Trebizond  —  and  on  a  sunny  flower 
So  like  its  own  above  that,  to  this  hour, 
It  still  remaineth,  torturing  the  bee 
With  madness,  and  unwonted  reverie: 
In  Heaven,  and  all  its  environs,  the  leaf 
And  blossom  of  the  fairy  plant,  in  grief 
Disconsolate  linger  —  grief  that  hangs  her  head, 
Repenting  follies  that  full  long  have  fled, 
Heaving  her  white  breast  to  the  balmy  air, 
Like  guilty  beauty,  chasten'd,  and  more  fair: 
Nyctanthes  too,  as  sacred  as  the  light 
She  fears  to  perfume,  perfuming  the  night: 

*  And  Clytia  pondering  between  many  a  sun, 
While  pettish  tears  adown  her  petals  run: 

t  And  that  aspiring  flower  that  sprang  on  earth  — 
And  died,  ere  scarce  exalted  into  birth, 
Bursting  its  odorous  heart  in  spirit  to  wing 
Its  way  to  Heaven,  from  garden  of  a  king: 

*  Clytia  —  The  Chrysanthemum  Peruvianum,  or,  to  employ 
a  better-known  term,  the  turnsol  —  which  turns  continually  to 
wards  the  sun,  covers  itself,  like  Peru,  the  country  from  which  it 
comes,  with  dewy  clouds  which  cool  and  refresh  its  flowers  during 
the  most  violent  heat  of  the  day.  — B.  de  St.  Pierre. 

t  There  is  cultivated  in  the  king's  garden  at  Paris,  a  species  of  ser 
pentine  aloes  without  prickles,  whose  large  and  beautiful  flower 
exhales  a  strong  odour  of  the  vanilla,  during  the  time  of  its  expan 
sion,  which  is  very  short.  It  does  not  blow  till  towards  the  month 
of  July  —  you  then  perceive  it  gradually  open  its  petals  —  expand 
them  —  fade  and  die.  —  St.  Pierre. 


IO2  POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 

•  And  Valisnerian  lotus  thither  flown 

From  struggling  with  the  waters  of  the  Rhone; 

t  And  thy  most  lovely  purple  perfume,  Zante! 

Isola  d'oro!  —  Fior  di  Levante! 

t  And  the  Nelumbo  bud  that  floats  for  ever 

With  Indian  Cupid  down  the  holy  river  — 

Fair  flowers,  and  fairy!  to  whose  care  is  given 

I  To  bear  the  Goddess'  song,  in  odors,  up  to  Heaven: 

"Spirit!  that  dwellest  where, 

In  the  deep  sky, 
The  terrible  and  fair, 

In  beauty  vie! 
Beyond  the  line  of  blue  — 

The  boundary  of  the  star 
Which  turneth  at  the  view 

Of  thy  barrier  and  thy  bar  — 
Of  the  barrier  overgone 

By  the  comets  who  were  cast 
From  their  pride,  and  from  their  throne 

To  be  drudges  till  the  last  — 
To  be  carriers  of  fire 

(The  red  fire  of  their  heart) 
With  speed  that  may  not  tire 

And  with  pain  that  shall  not  part  — 

*  There  is  found,  in  the  Rhone,  a  beautiful  lily  of  the  Valisnerian 
kind.  Its  stem  will  stretch  to  the  length  of  three  or  four  feet  — 
thus  preserving  its  head  above  water  in  the  swellings  of  the  river. 

t  The  Hyacinth. 

t  It  is  a  fiction  of  the  Indians,  that  Cupid  was  first  seen  floating 
In  one  of  these  down  the  river  Ganges  —  and  that  he  still  loves  the 
cradle  of  his  childhood. 

§  And  golden  vials  full  of  odors  which  are  the  prayers  of  the 
taints.  —  Rev.  St.  John. 


AL   AARAAF  IO3 

Who  livest  —  that  we  know  — 

In  Eternity  —  we  feel  — 
But  the  shadow  of  whose  brow 

What  spirit  shall  reveal? 
Tho'  the  beings  whom  thy  Nesace, 

Thy  messenger  hath  known 
Have  dream'd  for  thy  Infinity 

*  A  model  of  their  own  — 
Thy  will  is  done,  Oh,  God! 

The  star  hath  ridden  high 
Thro*  many  a  tempest,  but  she  rode 

Beneath  thy  burning  eye; 
And  here,  in  thought,  to  thee  — 

In  thought  that  can  alone 

*  The  Humanitarians  held  that  God  was  to  be  understood  as 
having  really  a  human  form.  —  Vide  Clarke's  Sermons,  vol.  i,  page 
26,  fol.  edit. 

The  drift  of  Milton's  argument,  leads  him  to  employ  language 
which  would  appear,  at  first  sight,  to  verge  upon  their  doctrine; 
but  it  will  be  seen  immediately,  that  he  guards  himself  against  the 
charge  of  having  adopted  one  of  the  most  ignorant  errors  of  the 
dark  ages  of  the  church.  —  Dr.  Sumner's  Notes  on  Milton's  Chris 
tian  Doctrine. 

This  opinion,  in  spite  of  many  testimonies  to  the  contrary,  could 
never  have  been  very  general.  Andeus,  a  Syrian  of  Mesopotamia, 
was  condemned  for  the  opinion,  as  heretical.  He  lived  in  the  be 
ginning  of  the  fourth  century.  His  disciples  were  called  Anthrqpo* 
morphites.  —  Vide  Du  Pin. 

Among  Milton's  minor  poems  are  these  lines:  — 

Dicite  sacrorum  presides  nemorum  Dee.  4c. 

Quis  ille  primus  cujus  ex  imagine 

Nt  tur*  solers  finiit  human  urn  genii*  ? 

Eternus,  incorruptus,  rqurvus  polo, 

Unusque  et  universus  exemplar  Dei.  —  And  afterward*. 

Non  cui  profundum  Cccit&s  lumen  dedit 

Dircrus  tufur  vidit  hunc  tlto  »inu.  &c. 


1O4  POEMS  WRITTEN   IN  YOUTH 

Ascend  thy  empire  and  so  be 

A  partner  of  thy  throne  — 
*  By  winged  Fantasy, 

My  embassy  is  given, 
Till  secrecy  shall  knowledge  be 

In  the 'environs  of  Heaven." 

She  ceas'd  —  and  buried  then  her  burning  cheek 

Abash'd,  amid  the  lilies  there,  to  seek 

A  shelter  from  the  fervour  of  His  eye; 

For  the  stars  trembled  at  the  Deity. 

She  stir'd  not  —  breath'd  not  —  for  a  voice  was  there 

How  solemnly  pervading  the  calm  air! 

A  sound  of  silence  on  the  startled  ear 

Which  dreamy  poets  name  "  the  music  of  the  sphere." 

Ours  is  a  world  of  words:  Quiet  we  call 

"Silence"  —  which  is  the  merest  word  of  all. 

All  Nature  speaks,  and  ev'n  ideal  things 

Flap  shadowy  sounds  from  visionary  wings  — 

But  ah!  not  so  when,  thus,  in  realms  on  high 

The  eternal  voice  of  God  is  passing  by, 

And  the  red  winds  are  withering  in  the  sky! 

t  "What  tho'  in  worlds  which  sightless  cycles  run, 
Link'd  to  a  little  system,  and  one  sun  — 
Where  all  my  love  is  folly  and  the  crowd 
Still  think  my  terrors  but  the  thunder  cloud, 
The  storm,  the  earthquake,  and  the  ocean-wrath  — 
(Ah!  will  they  cross  me  in  my  angrier  path?) 

•  Seltsamen  Tochter  Jovi» 
Seinem  Schosskinde 
Der  Phantasie.  —  Goethe. 

f  Sightless  —  too  small  to  be  seen.  —  Leggc. 


AL  AARAAF  IO5 

What  tho'  in  worlds  which  own  a  single  sun 
The  sands  of  Time  grow  dimmer  as  they  run, 
Yet  thine  is  my  resplendency,  so  given 
To  bear  my  secrets  thro'  the  upper  Heaven. 
Leave  tenantless  thy  crystal  home,  and  fly, 
With  all  thy  train,  athwart  the  moony  sky  — • 
*  Apart  —  like  fire-flies  in  Sicilian  night, 
And  wing  to  other  worlds  another  light! 
Divulge  the  secrets  of  thy  embassy 
To  the  proud  orbs  that  twinkle  —  and  so  be 
To  ev'ry  heart  a  barrier  and  a  ban 
Lest  the  stars  totter  in  the  guilt  of  man!" 

Up  rose  the  maiden  in  the  yellow  night, 
The  single-mooned  eve!  —  on  Earth  we  plight 
Our  faith  to  one  love  —  and  one  moon  adore  — 
The  birth-place  of  young  Beauty  had  no  more. 
As  sprang  that  yellow  star  from  downy  hours 
Up  rose  the  maiden  from  her  shrine  of  flowers,' 
And  bent  o'er  sheeny  mountain  and  dim  plain 
tHer  way  —  but  left  not  yet  her  Therasaean  reign.' 

PART  n 

HIGH  on  a  mountain  of  enamelPd  head  — 
Such  as  the  drowsy  shepherd  on  his  bed 
Of  giant  pasturage  lying  at  his  ease, 
Raising  his  heavy  eyelid,  starts  and  sees 

*  I  have  often  noticed  a  peculiar  movement  of  the  fire-flies;— 
they  will  collect  in  a  body  and  fly  off,  from  a  common  centre,  into 
innumerable  radii. 

f  Therasaea,  or  Therasea,  the  island  mentioned  by  Seneca,  which, 
in  a  moment,  arose  from  the  sea  to  the  eyes  of  astonished  mariners. 


IO6  POEMS   WRITTEN   IN   YOUTH 

With  many  a  mutter'd  "hope  to  be  forgiven" 

What  time  the  moon  is  quadrated  in  Heaven  — 

Of  rosy  head,  that  towering  far  away 

Into  the  sunlit  ether,  caught  the  ray 

Of  sunken  suns  at  eve  —  at  noon  of  night, 

While  the  moon  danc'd  with  the  fair  stranger  light 

Uprear'd  upon  such  height  arose  a  pile 

Of  gorgeous  columns  on  th'  unburthen'd  air, 

Flashing  from  Parian  marble  that  twin  smile 

Far  down  upon  the  wave  that  sparkled  there, 

And  nursled  the  young  mountain  in  its  lair. 

*  Of  molten  stars  their  pavement,  such  as  fall 

Thro*  the  ebon  air,  besilvering  the  pall 

Of  their  own  dissolution,  while  they  die  — 

Adorning  then  the  dwellings  of  the  sky. 

A  dome,  by  linked  light  from  Heaven  let  down, 

Sat  gently  on  these  columns  as  a  crown  — 

A  window  of  one  circular  diamond,  there, 

Look'd  out  above  into  the  purple  air, 

And  rays  from  God  shot  down  that  meteor  chain 

And  haliow'd  all  the  beauty  twice  again, 

Save  when,  between  th'  Empyrean  and  that  ring, 

Some  eager  spirit  flapp'd  his  dusky  wing. 

But  on  the  pillars  Seraph  eyes  have  seen 

The  dimness  of  this  world:  that  greyish  green 

That  Nature  loves  the  best  for  Beauty's  grave 

Lurk'd  in  each  cornice,  round  each  architrave  —^ 

And  every  sculptur'd  cherub  thereabout 

That  from  his  marble  dwelling  peered  out, 

Seem'd  earthly  in  the  shadow  of  his  niche  — 

Achaian  statues  in  a  world  so  rich. 

*  Some  star  which,  from  the  ruin'd  roof 
Of  sbak'd  Olympus,  by  mischance,  did  fall. 


AL   AARAAF  I<>7 

•  Friezes  from  Tadmor  and  Persepolis  — 
From  Balbec,  and  the  stilly,  clear  abyss 
fOf  beautiful  Gomorrah!  O,  the  wave 
Is  now  upon  thee  —  but  too  late  to  save! 

Sound  loves  to  revel  in  a  summer  night: 

Witness  the  murmur  of  the  grey  twilight 

|  That  stole  upon  the  ear,  in  Eyraco, 

Of  many  a  wild  star-gazer  long  ago  — 

That  stealeth  ever  on  the  ear  of  him 

Who,  musing,  gazeth  on  the  distance  dim, 

And  sees  the  darkness  coming  as  a  cloud  — 

§  Is  not  its  form  —  its  voice  —  most  palpable  and  loud  ? 

But  what  is  this?  —  it  cometh  —  and  it  brings 
A  music  with  it  —  't  is  the  rush  of  wings  — 

*  Voltaire,  in  speaking  of  Persepolis  says,  "Je  connois  bien 
1'admiration  qu'inspirent  ces  ruines  —  mais  un  palais  erigd  au  pied 
d'une  chaine  des  rochers  sterils  —  peut  il  etre  un  chef  d'ceuvre  des 
arts!" 

f  "O,  the  wave  "  —  Ula  Deguisi  is  the  Turkish  appellation;  but, 
on  its  own  shores,  it  is  called  Bahar  Loth,  or  Almotanah.  There 
were  undoubtedly  more  than  two  cities  engulphed  in  the  "dead 
sea."  In  the  valley  of  Siddim  were  five  —  Adrah,  Zeboin,  Zoar, 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  Stephen  of  Byzantium  mentions  eight, 
and  Strabo  thirteen,  (engulphed)  —  but  the  last  is  out  of  all  rea 
son. 

It  is  said  (Tacitus,  Strabo,  Josephus,  Daniel  of  St.  Saba,  Nau, 
Maundrell,  Troilo,  D'Arvieux)  that  after  an  excessive  drought, 
the  vestiges  of  columns,  walls,  &c.  are  seen  above  the  surface.  At 
any  season,  such  remains  may  be  discovered  by  looking  down  into 
the  transparent  lake,  and  at  such  distances  as  would  argue  the  ex 
istence  of  many  settlements  in  the  space  now  usurped  by  the  'As- 
phaltites.' 

J  Eyraco  —  Chaldea. 

§  I  have  often  thought  I  could  distinctly  bear  the  sound  of  thf 
darkness  as  it  stole  over  the  horizon. 


108  POEMS  WRITTEN   IN  YOUTH 

A  pause  —  and  then  a  sweeping,  falling  strain 
And  Nesace  is  in  her  halls  again. 
From  the  wild  energy  of  wanton  haste 

Her  cheeks  were  flushing,  and  her  lips  apart; 
And  zone  that  clung  around  her  gentle  waist 

Had  burst  beneath  the  heaving  of  her  heart. 
Within  the  centre  of  that  hall  to  breathe 
She  paus'd  and  panted,  Zanthe!  all  beneath, , 
The  fairy  light  that  kiss'd  her  golden  hair 
And  long'd  to  rest,  yet  could  but  sparkle  there! 

*  Young  flowers  were  whispering  in  melody 

To  happy  flowers  that  night  —  and  tree  to  tree; 
Fountains  were  gushing  music  as  they  fell 
In  many  a  star-lit  grove,  or  moon-lit  dell; 
Yet  silence  came  upon  material  things  — 
Fair  flowers,  bright  waterfalls  and  angel  wings  — . 
And  sound  alone  that  from  the  spirit  sprang 
Bore  burthen  to  the  charm  the  maiden  sang: 

"  Neath  blue-bell  or  streamer  — 

Or  tufted  wild  spray 
That  keeps,  from  the  dreamer, 

fThe  moonbeam  away  — 
Bright  beings!  that  ponder, 

With  half  closing  eyes, 

*  Fairies  use  flowers  for  their  charactery.  —  Merry  Wives  of 
Windsor. 

t  In  Scripture  is  this  passage  —  "The  sun  shall  not  harm  thee 
by  day,  nor  the  moon  by  night."  It  is  perhaps  not  generally 
known  that  the  moon,  in  Egypt,  has  the  effect  of  producing  blind 
ness  to  those  who  sleep  with  the  face  exposed  to  its  rays,  to  which 
circumstance  the  passage  evidently  alludes. 


AL  AARAAF  IO9 

On  the  stars  which  your  wonder 

Hath  drawn  from  the  skies, 
'Till  they  glance  thro'  the  shade,  and 

Come  down  to  your  brow 
Like eyes  of  the  maiden 

Who  calls  on  you  now  — • 
Arise !  from  your  dreaming 

In  violet  bowers, 
To  duty  beseeming 

These  star-litten  hours  — 
And  shake  from  your  tresses 

Encumber'd  with  dew 
The  breath  of  those  kisses 

That  cumber  them  too  — 
(0!  how,  without  you,  Lovel 

Could  angels  be  blest?) 
Those  kisses  of  true  love 

That  lull'd  ye  to  rest! 
Up!  —  shake  from  your  wing 

Each  hindering  thing: 
The  dew  of  the  night — 

It  would  weigh  down  your  flight; 
And  true  love  caresses  — 

O!  leave  them  apart! 
They  are  light  on  the  tresses, 

But  lead  on  the  heart. 

Ligeia!  Ligeia! 

My  beautiful  one! 
Whose  harshest  idea 

Will  to  melody  run, 
O!  is  it  thy  will 

On  the  breezes  to  toss? 


110  POEMS  WRITTEN  IN  YOUTH 

Or,  capriciously  still, 

*Like  the  lone  Albatross, 
Incumbent  on  night 

(As  she  on  the  air) 
To  keep  watch  with  delight 

On  the  harmony  there? 
Ligeia!  wherever 

Thy  image  may  be, 
No  magic  shall  sever 

Thy  music  from  thee. 
Thou  hast  bound  many  eyes 

In  a  dreamy  sleep — 
But  the  strains  still  arise 

Which  thy  vigilance  keep— 
The  sound  of  the  rain 
(-    Which  leaps  down  to  the  flower, 
And  dances  again 

In  the  rhythm  of  the  shower — 
fThe  murmur  that  springs 

From  the  growing  of  grass 
Are  the  music  of  things  — 

But  are  modell'd,  alas!  — 
Away,  then  my  dearest, 

O!  hie  thee  away 
,To  springs  that  lie  clearest 

Beneath  the  moon-ray  — 
To  lone  lake  that  smiles, 

In  its  dream  of  deep  rest, 

*  The  Albatross  is  said  to  sleep  on  the  wing. 

f  I  met  with  this  idea  in  an  old  English  tale,  which  I  am  now 
unable  to  obtain  and  quote  from  memory:  —  "The  verie  essence 
and,  as  it  were,  springeheade  and  origine  of  all  musiche  is  the  verie 
pleasaunte  sounde  which  the  trees  of  the  forest  do  make  when  they 
ftowe." 


AL  AARAAF  III 

At  the  many  star-isles 

That  enjewel  its  breast  — 
Where  wild  flowers,  creeping, 

Have  mingled  their  shade, 
On  its  margin  is  sleeping 

Full  many  a  maid  — 
Some  have  left  the  cool  glade,  and 

*Have  slept  with  the  bee  —  , 

Arouse  them,  my  maiden, 

On  moorland  and  lea  — 
Go!  breathe  on  their  slumber, 

All  softly  in  ear, 
The  musical  number 

They  slumber'd  to  hear  — 
For  what  can  awaken 

An  angel  so  soon 
Whose  sleep  hath  been  taken 

Beneath  the  cold  moon, 
As  the  spell  which  no  slumber 

Of  witchery  may  test, 
The  rhythmical  number 

Which  lull'd  him  to  rest?" 

Spirits  in  wing,  and  angels  to  the  view, 

A  thousand  seraphs  burst  th'  Empyrean  thro', 

*  The  wild  bee  will  not  sleep  in  the  shade  if  there  be  moonlight. 

The  rhyme  in  this  verse,  as  in  one  about  sixty  lines  before,  has 
an  appearance  of  affectation.  It  is,  however,  imitated  from  Sir 
W.  Scott,  or  rather  from  Claud  Halcro  —  in  whose  mouth  I  ad 
mired  its  affect: 

O!  were  there  an  island, 

Tho'  ever  so  wild 
Where  woman  might  smile,  and 

No  man  be  beguil'd,  &c. 


''112  POEMS   WRITTEN   IN   YOUTH 

Young  dreams  still  hovering  on  their  drowsy  flight  — 

Seraphs  in  all  but  "Knowledge,"  the  keen  light 

That  fell,  refracted,  thro'  thy  bounds,  afar 

O  Death!  from  eye  of  God  upon  that  star: 

Sweet  was  that  error  —  sweeter  still  that  death  — 

Sweet  was  that  error  —  ev'n  with  us  the  breath 

Of  Science  dims  the  mirror  of  our  joy  — 

To  them  't  were  the  Simoom,  and  would  destroy  — 

For  what  (to  them)  availeth  it  to  know 

That  Truth  is  Falsehood  —  or  that  Bliss  is  Woe?  " 

Sweet  was  their  death  —  with  them  to  die  was  rife 

With  the  last  ecstasy  of  satiate  life  — 

Beyond  that  death  no  immortality  — 

But  sleep  that  pondereth  and  is  not  "to  be"  — 

And  there  —  oh!  may  my  weary  spirit  dwell  — 

*  Apart  from  Heaven's  Eternity  —  and  yet  how  far 

from  Hell! 

What  guilty  spirit,  in  what  shrubbery  dim, 
Heard  not  the  stirring  summons  of  that  hymn? 

*  With  the  Arabians  there  is  a  medium  between  Heaven  and  Hell, 
where  men  suffer  no  punishment,  but  yet  do  not  attain  that  tran 
quil  and  even  happiness  which  they  suppose  to  be  characteristic 
of  heavenly  enjoyment. 

Un  no  rompido  sueno  — 

Un  dia  puro  —  allegre  —  libre 

Quiera  — 

Libre  de  amor  —  de  zelo  — 

De  odio  —  de  esperanza  —  de  rezelo.  —  Luis  Ponce  de  Leon. 

Sorrow  is  not  excluded  from  "Al  Aaraaf,"  but  it  is  that  sorrow 
which  the  living  love  to  cherish  for  the  dead,  and  which,  in  some 
minds,  resembles  the  delirium  of  opium.  The  passionate  excite 
ment  of  Love  and  the  buoyancy  of  spirit  attendant  upon  intoxica 
tion  are  its  less  holy  pleasures  —  the  price  of  which,  to  those  souls 
who  make  choice  of  "Al  Aaraaf"  as  their  residence  after  life,  is 
final  death  and  annihilation. 


AL   AARAAF,  113 

But  two:  they  fell:  for  Heaven  no  grace  imparts 
To  those  who  hear  not  for  their  beating  hearts. 
A  maiden-angel  and  her  seraph-lover  — 
O!  where  (and  ye  may  seek  the  wide  skies  over) 
Was  Love,  the  blind,  near  sober  Duty  known? 
"Unguided  Love  hath  fallen  —  'mid  "tears  of  perfect 

moan." 

He  was  a  goodly  spirit  —  he  who  fell : 
A  wanderer  by  moss-y-mantled  well  — 
A  gazer  on  the  lights  that  shine  above  — 
A  dreamer  in  the  moonbeam  by  his  love: 
What  wonder?  for  each  star  is  eye-like  there, 
And  looks  so  sweetly  down  on  Beauty's  hair  — 
And  they,  and  ev'ry  mossy  spring  were  holy 
To  his  love-haunted  heart  and  melancholy. 
The  night  had  found  (to  him  a  night  of  wo) 
Upon  a  mountain  crag,  young  Angelo  — 
Beetling  it  bends  athwart  the  solemn  sky, 
And  scowls  on  starry  worlds  that  down  beneath  it  lie. 
Here  sate  he  with  his  love  —  his  dark  eye  bent 
With  eagle  gaze  along  the  firmament: 
Now  turn'd  it  upon  her  —  but  ever  then 
It  trembled  to  the  orb  of  EARTH  again. 

"Ian the,  dearest,  see!  how  dim  that  ray! 

How  lovely  't  is  to  look  so  far  away ! 

She  seem'd  not  thus  upon  that  autumn  eve 

I  left  her  gorgeous  halls  —  nor  mourn'd  to  leave. 

That  eve  —  that  eve  —  I  should  remember  well  — 

The  sun-ray  dropp'd,  in  Lemnos,  with  a  spell 

On  th'  Arabesque  carving  of  a  gilded  hall 

Wherein  I  sate,  and  on  the  draperied  wall  — 

•There  be  tears  of  perfect  moan 
Wept  for  thee  in  Helicon.  —  Milton. 


114  POEMS   WRITTEN   IN   YOUTH 

And  on  my  eye-lids  —  O  the  heavy  light! 

How  drowsily  it  weigh'd  them  into  night! 

On  flowers,  before,  and  mist,  and  love  they  ran 

With  Persian  Saadi  in  his  Gulistan: 

But  O  that  light!  —  I  slumber'd  —  Death,  the  while, 

Stole  o'er  my  senses  in  that  lovely  isle 

So  softly  that  no  single  silken  hair 

Awoke  that  slept  —  or  knew  that  he  was  there. 

The  last  spot  of  Earth's  orb  I  trod  upon 

*  Was  a  proud  temple  call'd  the  Parthenon  — 

More  beauty  clung  around  her  column'd  wall 

f  Than  ev'n  thy  glowing  bosom  beats  withal, 

And  when  old  Time  my  wing  did  disenthral 

Thence  sprang  I  —  as  the  eagle  from  his  tower, 

And  years  I  left  behind  me  in  an  hour. 

What  time  upon  her  airy  bounds  I  hung 

One  half  the  garden  of  her  globe  was  flung 

Unrolling  as  a  chart  unto  my  view  — 

Tenantless  cities  of  the  desert  too! 

Ian  the,  beauty  crowded  on  me  then, 

And  half  I  wish'd  to  be  again  of  men." 

"My  Angelo!  and  why  of  them  to  be? 

A  brighter  dwelling-place  is  there  for  thee  — 

And  greener  fields  than  in  yon  world  above, 

And  woman's  loveliness  —  and  passionate  love." 

"But,  list,  Ian  the!  when  the  air  so  soft 
J  Fail'd,  as  my  pennon'd  spirit  leapt  aloft, 
Perhaps  my  brain  grew  dizzy  —  but  the  world 
I  left  so  late  was  into  chaos  hurl'd  — 

*  It  was  entire  in  1687  —  the  most  elevated  spot  in  Athens, 
t  Shadowing  more  beauty  in  their  airy  brows 
Than  have  the  white  breasts  of  the  Queen  of  Love.  —  Ifarhwt. 

J.  Pennon  —  for  pinion.  —  Milton. 


AL   AARAAF  115 

Sprang  from  her  station,  on  the  winds  apart, 
And  roll'd,  a  flame,  the  fiery  Heaven  athwart. 
Methought,  my  sweet  one,  then  I  ceased  to  soar 
And  fell  —  not  swiftly  as  I  rose  before, 
But  with  a  downward,  tremulous  motion  thro* 
Light,  brazen  rays,  this  golden  star  untol 
Nor  long  the  measure  of  my  falling  hours, 
For  nearest  of  all  stars  was  thine  to  ours  — 
Dread  star!  that  came,  amid  a  night  of  mirth, 
A,  red  Daedalion  on  the  timid  Earth. 

' '  We  came  —  and  to  thy  Earth  —  but  not  to  us 

Be  given  our  lady's  bidding  to  discuss: 

We  came,  my  love;  around,  above,  below, 

Gay  fire-fly  of  the  night  we  come  and  go, 

Nor  ask  a  reason  save  the  angel-nod 

She  grants  to  us,  as  granted  by  her  God  — 

But,  Angelo,  than  thine  grey  Time  unfurl'd 

Never  his  fairy  wing  o'er  f airier  world! 

Dim  was  its  little  disk,  and  angel  eyes 

Alone  could  see  the  phantom  in  the  skies, 

When  first  Al  Aaraaf  knew  her  course  to  be 

Headlong  thitherward  o'er  the  starry  sea  — 

But  when  its  glory  swell 'd  upon  the  sky, 

As  glowing  Beauty's  bust  beneath  man's  eye,* 

We  paus'd  before  the  heritage  of  men, 

And  thy  star  trembled  —  as  doth  Beauty  then!" 

Thus,  in  discourse,  the  lovers  whiled  away 

The  night  that  waned  and  waned   and  brought  no 

day. 

They  fell:  for  Heaven  to  them  no  hope  imparts 
Who  hear  not  for  the  beating  of  their  hearts. 


ROMANCE 

ROMANCE,  who  loves  to  nod  and  sing, 
With  drowsy  head  and  folded  wing, 
Among  the  green  leaves  as  they  shake 
Far  down  within  some  shadowy  lake, 
To  me  a  painted  paroquet 
Hath  been  —  a  most  familiar  bird  — 
Taught  me  my  alphabet  to  say  — 
To  lisp  my  very  earliest  word 
While  in  the  wild  wood  I  did  lie, 
A  child  —  with  a  most  knowing  eye. 

Of  late,  eternal  Condor  years 
So  shake  the  very  Heaven  on  high 
With  tumult  as  they  thunder  by, 
I  have  no  time  for  idle  cares 
Through  gazing  on  the  unquiet  sky.    * 
And  when  an  hour  with  calmer  wings 
Its  down  upon  my  spirit  flings  — 
That  little  time  with  lyre  and  rhyme 
To  while  away  —  forbidden  things! 
My  heart  would  feel  to  be  a  crime 
Unless  it  trembled  with  the  strings. 


SONG 

I  SAW  thee  on  thy  bridal  day  — 
When  a  burning  blush  came  o'er  thee, 

Though  happiness  around  thee  lay, 
The  world  all  love  before  thee: 

And  in  thine  eye  a  kindling  light 

(Whatever  it  might  be) 
Was  all  on  Earth  my  aching  sight 

Of  Loveliness  could  see. 

That  blush,  perhaps,  was  maiden  shame  — 

As  such  it  well  may  pass  — 
Though  its  glow  hath  raised  a  fiercer  flame  > 

In  the  breast  of  him,  alas! 

Who  saw  thee  on  that  bridal  day, 

When  that  deep  blush  would  come  o'er  thee, 
Though  happiness  around  thee  lay, 

The  world  all  love  before  thee. 


DREAMS 

OH!  that  my  young  life  were  a  lasting  dream! 

My  spirit  not  awakening,  till  the  beam 

Of  an  Eternity  should  bring  the  morrow. 

Yes!  tho'  that  long  dream  were  of  hopeless  sorrow, 

'T  were  better  than  the  cold  reality 

Of  waking  life,  to  him  whose  heart  must  be, 

And  hath  been  still,  upon  the  lovely  earth, 

A  chaos  of  deep  passion,  from  his  birth. 

But  should  it  be  —  that  dream  eternally 

Continuing  —  as  dreams  have  been  to  me 

In  my  young  boyhood  —  should  it  thus  be  given, 

'T  were  folly  still  to  hope  for  higher  Heaven. 

For  I  have  re  veil  'd  when  the  sun  was  bright 

I'  the  summer  sky,  in  dreams  of  living  light, 

And  loveliness,  —  have  left  my  very  heart 

Inclines  of  my  imagining,  apart 

From  mine  own  home,  with  beings  that  have  been 

Of  mine  own  thought  —  what  more  could  I  have  seen? 

'T  was  once  —  and  only  once  —  and  the  wild  hour 

From  my  remembrance  shall  not  pass  —  some  power 

Or  spell  had  bound  me  —  't  was  the  chilly  wind 

Came  o'er  me  in  the  night,  and  left  behind 

Its  image  on  my  spirit  —  or  the  moon 

Shone  on  my  slumbers  in  her  lofty  noon 

Too  coldly  —  or  the  stars  —  howe'er  it  was 

That  dream  was  as  that  night-wind  —  let  it  pass. 

I  have  been  happy,  tho'  in  a  dream. 
I.have  been  happy  —  and  I  love  the  theme: 


DREAMS  119 

Dreams!  in  their  vivid  colouring  of  life 

As  in  that  fleeting,  shadowy,  misty  strife 

Of  semblance  with  reality  which  brings 

To  the  delirious  eye,  more  lovely  things 

Of  Paradise  and  Love  —  and  all  our  own! 

Than  young  Hope  in  his  sunniest  hour  hath  known. 


SPIRITS  OF  THE  DEAD 

I 

THY  soul  shall  find  itself  alone 

'Mid  dark  thoughts  of  the  gray  tomb-stone  • 

Not  one,  of  all  the  crowd,  to  pry 

Into  thine  hour  of  secrecy: 

II 

Be  silent  in  that  solitude, 

Which  is  not  loneliness  —  for  then 
The  spirits  of  the  dead  who  stood 

In  life  before  thee  are  again 
In  death  around  thee  —  and  their  will 
Shall  overshadow  thee:  be  still. 

Ill 

The  night  —  tho'  clear  —  shall  frown  — 
And  the  stars  shall  look  not  down, 
From  their  high  thrones  in  the  heaven, 
With  light  like  Hope  to  mortals  given  — 
But  their  red  orbs,  without  beam, 
To  thy  weariness  shall  seem 
As  a  burning  and  a  fever 
Which  would  cling  to  thee  for  ever. 

IV 

Now  are  thoughts  thou  shalt  not  banish  -— 
Now  are  visions  ne'er  to  vanish  — 
From  thy  spirit  shall  they  pass 
No  more  —  like  dew-drop  from  the  grass. 


SPIRITS   OF  THE  DEAD  121 

V 

The  breeze  —  the  breath  of  God  —  is  still  — 

And  the  mist  upon  the  hill 

Shadowy  —  shadowy  —  yet  unbroken, 

Is  a  symbol  and  a  token  — 

How  it  hangs  upon  the  trees, 

A  mystery  of  mysteries  1  — 


EVENING  STAR 

*T  WAS  noontide  of  summer, 

And  mid-time  of  night; 
And  stars,  in  their  orbits, 

Shone  pale,  thro'  the  light 
Of  the  brighter,  cold  moon, 

'Mid  planets  her  slaves, 
Herself  in  the  Heavens, 
Her  beam  on  the  waves. 

I  gazed  awhile 

On  her  cold  smile; 
Too  cold  —  too  cold  for  me  — 

There  pass'd,  as  a  shroud, 

A  fleecy  cloud, 
And  I  turn'd  away  to  thee, 

Proud  Evening  Star, 

In  thy  glory  afar, 
And  dearer  thy  beam  shall  be; 

For  joy  to  my  heart 

Is  the  proud  part 
Thou  bearest  in  Heaven  at  night, 

And  more  I  admire 

Thy  distant  fire, 
Than  that  colder,  lowly  light. 


TO « 

TAKE  this  kiss  upon  thy  brow  I 

And,  in  parting  from  you  now, 

Thus  much  let  me  avow  — 

You  are  not  wrong,  to  deem. 

That  my^days  have  been  a  dream; 

Yet  if  Hope  has  flown  away 

In  a  night,  or  in  a  day, 

In  a  vision,  or  in  none, 

Is  it  therefore  the  less  gone? 

All  that  we  see  or  seem 

Is  but  a  dream  within  a  dream. 

I  stand  amid  the  roar 
Of  a  surf-tormented  shore, 
And  I  hold  within  my  hand 
Grains  of  the  golden  sand  — 
How  few!  yet  how  they  creep 
Through  my  fingers  to  the  deep, 
While  I  weep  —  while  I  weepl 
O,  God!  can  I  not  grasp 
Them  with  a  tighter  clasp? 
O,  God!  can  I  not  save 
One  from  the  pitiless  wave? 
Is  all  that  we  see  or  seem 
But  a  dream  within  a  dream? 

1  Poe's  title  in  the  Flag  of  Our  Union  was  "A  Dream  within  a 
Dream." 


"IN  YOUTH  HAVE  I  KNOWN  ONE  WITH 
WHOM  THE  EARTH"1 

How  often  we  forget  all  time,  when  lone 

Admiring  Nature's  universal  throne; 

Her  woods  —  her  wilds  —  her  mountains  —  the  intense 

Reply  of  HERS  to  our  intelligence! 2 


IN  youth  have  I  known  one  with  whom  the  Earth 
In  secret  communing  held  —  as  he  with  it, 
In  daylight,  and  in  beauty  from  his  birth: 
Whose  fervid,  flickering  torch  of  life  was  lit 
From  the  sun  and  stars,  whence  he  had  drawn  forth 
A  passionate  light  —  such  for  his  spirit  was  fit  — 
And  yet  that  spirit  knew  not,  in  the  hour 
Of  its  own  fervour,  what  had  o'er  it  power. 


Perhaps  it  may  be  that  my  mind  is  wrought 
To  a  ferver  by  the  moonbeam  that  hangs  o'er, 
But  I  will  half  believe  that  wild  light  fraught 
With  more  of  sovereignty  than  ancient  lore 
Hath  ever  told  —  or  is  it  of  a  thought 
The  unembodied  essence,  and  no  more, 
That  with  a  quickening  spell  doth  o'er  us  pass 
As  dew  of  the  night-time  o'er  the  summer  grass? 

1  The  late  E.  C.  Stedman  gave  this  the  title  of  "  Stanzas  " 
in  the  Stedman- Woodberry  edition  of  Poe's  poems,  which  all 
succeeding  editions  have  followed. 

8  Byron,  "The  Island." 


IN  YOUTH   HAVE  I   KNOWN   ONE         125 

3 

Doth  o'er  us  pass,  when,  as  th'  expanding  eye 
To  the  loved  object  —  so  the  tear  to  the  lid 
Will  start,  which  lately  slept  in  apathy? 
And  yet  it  need  not  be  —  (that  object)  hid  . 

From  us  in  life  —  but  common  —  which  doth  lie 
Each  hour  before  us  —  but  then  only,  bid 
With  a  strange  sound,  as  of  a  harp-string  broken, 
To  awake  us  —  'T  is  a  symbol  and  a  token 

4 

Of  what  in  other  worlds  shall  be  —  and  given 

In  beauty  by  our  God,  to  those  alone 

Who  otherwise  would  fall  from  life  and  Heaven 

Drawn  by  their  heart's  passion,  and  that  tone, 

That  high  tone  of  the  spirit  which  hath  striven, 

Tho'  not  with  Faith  —  with  godliness  —  whose  throne 

With  desperate  energy  't  hath  beaten  down; 

Wearing  its  own  deep  feeling  as  a  crown. 


A  DREAM 

IN  visions  of  the  dark  night 
i     I  have  dreamed  of  joy  departed  — 
But  a  waking  dream  of  life  and  light 
Hath  left  me  broken-hearted. 

Ah!  what  is  not  a  dream  by  day 
i     To  him  whose  eyes  are  cast 
On  things  around  him  with  a  ray 
Turned  back  upon  the  past? 

(  That  holy  dream  —  that  holy  dream, 
1 ,     While  all  the  world  were  chiding, 
Hath  cheered  me  as  a  lovely  beam 
A  lonely  spirit  guiding. 

What  though  that  light,  thro'  storm  and  night. 

So  trembled  from  afar  — 
What  could  there  be  more  purely  bright 

In  Truth's  day-star? 


"THE  HAPPIEST  DAY,  THE  HAPPIEST 
HOUR  " 

t  "*  ' 

THE  happief ;  day  —  the  happiest  hour 

My  sear'  •  j  and  blighted  heart  hath  known, 
The  highest  hope  of  pride  and  power, 
I  feel  hath  flown. 

Of  power!  said  I?  yes!  such  I  ween;\ 
But  they  have  vanish'd  long,  alas!  ( 

The  visions  of  my  youth  have  been  — 
But  let  them  pass. 

And,  pride,  what  have  I  now  with  thee? 

Another  brow  may  even  inherit 
The  venom  thou  hast  pour'd  on  me  —  • 

Be  still,  my  spirit! 

The  happiest  day  —  the  happiest  hour 

Mine  eyes  shall  see  —  have  ever  seen,', 
The  brightest  glance  of  pride  and  power, 
\I  feel  —  have  been: 

But  were  that  hope  of  pride  and  power; 

Now  offer'd,  with  the  pain 
Even  then  I  felt  —  that  brightest  hour 

I  would  not  live  again: 

For  on  its  wing  was  dark  alloy, 

And,  as  it  flutter'd  —  fell 
An  essence  —  powerful  to  destroy 

A  soul  that  knew  it  well. 


THE  LAKE 

To 

j 
IN  youth's  spring  it  was  my  lot    , 

To  haunt  of  the  wide  world  a  spot 
The  which  I  could  not  love  the  less, 
So  lovely  was  the  loneliness     v 
Of  a  wild  lake  with  black  rock  bound, 
And  the  tall  pines  that  tower'd  around  —• 

But  when  the  night  had  thrown  her  pall 

Upon  that  spot,  as  upon  all, 

And  the  ghastly  wind  went  by 

In  a  dirge-like  melody, 

Then  —  ah  then  I  would  awake 

To  the  terror  of  that  lone  lake. 

Yet  that  terror  was  not  fright, 

But  a  tremulous  delight  — 

A  feeling  not  the  jewell'd  mine 

Could  teach  or  bribe  me  to  define, 

Nor  love  —  although  the  love  were  thine. 

Death  was  in  that  poison'd  wave, 
And  in  its  depth  a  fitting  grave 
For  him  who  thence  could  solace  bring 
To  his  lone  imagining  — 
Whose  solitary  soul  could  make 
An  Eden  of  that  dim  lake. 


TO 

THE  bowers  whereat,  in  dreams,  I  see 

The  wantonest  singing  birds, 
Are  lips  —  and  all  thy  melody 

Of  lip-begotten  words  — 

Thine  eyes,  in  Heaven  of  heart  enshrined 

Then  desolately  fall, 
O  God!  on  my  funereal  mind 

Like  starlight  on  a  pall  — 

Thy  heart  —  thy  heart!  —  I  wake  and  sigh, 

And  sleep  to  dream  till  day 
Of  the  truth  that  gold  can  never  buy  — 

Of  the  baubles  that  it  may. 


TO  THE  RIVER  

FAIR  river!  in  thy  bright,  clear  flow 

Of  crystal,  wandering  water, 
Thou  art  an  emblem  of  the  glow 

Of  beauty  —  the  unhidden  heart  — 
The  playful  maziness  of  art 
In  old  Albertq's  daughter; 

But  when  within  thy  wave  she  looks  — 

Which  glistens  then,  and  trembles  — 
Why,  then,  the  prettiest  of  brooks 

Her  worshipper  resembles; 
For  in  his  heart,  as  in  thy  stream, 

Her  image  deeply  lies  — 
His  heart  which  trembles  at  the  beam 

Of  her  soul-searching  eyes. 


TO 

^/   s/    ^^  - ', 
I  HEED  not  that  my  earthly  lot 

Hath  —  little  of  Earth  in  it  — 
That  years  of  love  have  been  forgot 

In  the  hatred  of  a  minute:  — 
I  mourn  not  that  the  desolate 

Are  happier,  sweet,  than  I, 
But  that  you  sorrow  for  my  fate 

Who  am  a  passer  by. 


FAIRY-LAND 

DIM  vales  —  and  shadowy  floods  — 

And  cloudy-looking  woods, 

Whose  forms  we  can't  discover 

For  the  tears  that  drip  all  over. 

Huge  moons  there  wax  and  wane  — 

Again  —  again  —  again  — 

Every  moment  of  the  night  — 

Forever  changing  places  — 

And  they  put  out  the  star-light 

With  the  breath  from  their  pale  faces. 

About  twelve  by  the  moon-dial 

One  more  filmy  than  the  rest 

(A  kind  which,  upon  trial, 

They  have  found  to  be  the  best) 

Comes  down  —  still  down  —  and  down 

With  its  centre  on  the  crown 

Of  a  mountain's  eminence, 

While  its  wide  circumference 

In  easy  drapery  falls 

Over  hamlets,  over  halls, 

Wherever  they  may  be  — 

O'er  the  strange  woods  —  o'er  the  sea  — * 

Over  spirits  on  the  wing  — 

Over  every  drowsy  thing  — 

And  buries  them  up  quite 

In  a  labyrinth  of  light  — 

And  then,  how  deep!  —  O,  deep! 

Is  the  passion  of  their  sleep. 


FAIRY-LAND  133 

In  the  morning  they  arise, 
And  their  moony  covering 
Is  soaring  in  the  skies, 
With  the  tempests  as  they  toss, 

Like almost  any  thing  — 

Or  a  yellow  Albatross.* 
They  use  that  moon  no  more 
For  the  same  end  as  before  — 
Videlicet  a  tent  —     ' 
Which  I  think  extravagant: 
Its  atomies,  however, 
Into  a  shower  dissever, 
Of  which  those  butterflies, 
Of  Earth,  who  seek  the  skies, 
And  so  come  down  again 
(Never-contented  things!) 
Have  brought  a  specimen 
Upon  their  quivering  wings. 


TO  HELEN 

HELEN,  thy  beauty  is  to  me 
Like  those  Nicdan  barks  of  yore, 

That  gently,  o'er  a  perfumed  sea, 
The  weary,  way-worn  wanderer  bore 
To  his  own  native  shore. 

On  desperate  seas  long  wont  to  roam, 
Thy  hyacinth  hair,  thy  classic  face, 

Thy  Naiad  airs  have  brought  me  home 
To  the  glory  that  was  Greece, 

And  the  grandeur  that  was  Rome. 

Lo!  in  yon  brilliant  window-niche 
How  statue-like  I  see  thee  stand, 
The  agate  lamp  within  thy  handl 

Ah,  Psyche,  from  the  regions  which 
Are  Holy-Land! 


FROM  AN  ALBUM  (ALONE) 

FROM  childhood's  hour  I  have  not  been 
As  others  were  —  I  have  not  seen 
As  others  saw  —  I  could  not  bring 
My  passions  from  a  common  spring  — 
From  the  same  source  I  have  not  taken 
My  sorrow  —  I  could  not  awaken 
My  heart  to  joy  at  the  same  tone  — 
And  all  I  lov'd  —  7  lov'd  alone  — 
Then  —  in  my  childhood  —  in  the  dawn 
Of  a  most  stormy  life  —  was  drawn 
From  ev'ry  depth  of  good  and  ill 
The  mystery  which  binds  me  still  — 
From  the  torrent,  or  the  fountain  — 
From  the  red  cliff  of  the  mountain  — 
From  the  sun  that  'round  me  roll'd 
In  its  autumn  tint  of  gold  — 
From  the  lightning  in  the  sky 
As  it  pass'd  me  flying  by  — 
From  the  thunder,  and  the  storm  — 
And  the  cloud  that  took  the  form 
(When  the  rest  of  Heaven  was  blue) 
Of  a  demon  hi  my  view  — 


POEMS  NOW  FIRST  COL- 
LECTED 


apotf*,from  Pot's  Southern  Literary  Metteagtr  dttk 
,  by  J.  B.  Wkitty 


POEMS   NOW   FIRST   COL- 
LECTED 

SPIRITUAL  SONG 

HARK,  echo!  —  Hark;  echo ! 

T  is  the  sound 
Of  archangels,  hi  happiness  wrapt 


ELIZABETH 

ELIZABETH  —  it  surely  is  most  fit 

[Logic  and  common  usage  so  commanding] 

In  thy  own  book  that  first  thy  name  be  writ, 

Zeno1  and  other  sages  notwithstanding; 

And  I  have  other  reasons  for  so  doing 

Besides  my  innate  love  of  contradiction; 

Each  poet  —  if  a  poet  —  in  persuing 

The  muses  thro'  their  bowers  of  Truth  or  Fiction, 

Has  studied  very  little  of  his  part, 

Read  nothing,  written  less  —  in  short 's  a  fool  , 

Endued  with  neither  soul,  nor  sense,  nor  art, 

Being  ignorant  of  one  important  rule, 

Employed  in  even  the  theses  of  the  school  — 

Called  —  I  forget  the  heathenish  Greek  name  — 

[Called  anything,  its  meaning  is  the  same] 

"Always  write  first  things  uppermost  in  the  heart." 

1  It  was  a  saying  of  this  philosopher  "  that  one's  own  name  should 
never  appear  in  one's  own  book."  _ 


FROM  AN  ALBUM 

ELIZABETH  it  is  in  vain  you  say 

"Love  not"  —  thou  sayest  it  in  so  sweet  a  way: 

In  vain  those  words  from  thee  or  L.  E.  L. 

Zantippe's  talents  had  enforced  so  well: 

Ah!  if  that  language  from  thy  heart  arise, 

Breathe  it  less  gently  forth  —  and  veil  thine  eyes, 

Endymion,  recollect,  when  Luna  tried 

To  cure  his  love  —  was  cured  of  all  beside  — 

His  folly  —  pride  —  and  passion  —  for  he  died. 


TO  SARAH 

WHEN  melancholy  and  alone, 
I  sit  on  some  moss-covered  stone 
Beside  a  murm'ring  stream; 
I  think  I  hear  thy  voice's  sound 
In  every  tuneful  thing  around, 
Oh!  what  a  pleasant  dream. 

The  silvery  streamlet  gurgling  on, 
The  mock-bird  chirping  on  the  thorn, 
Remind  me,  love,  of  thee. 
They  seem  to  whisper  thoughts  of  love, 
As  thou  didst  when  the  stars  above 
.Witnessed  thy  vows  to  me;  — 

The  gentle  zephyr  floating  by, 
In  chorus  to  my  pensive  sigh,) 
Recalls  the  hour  of  bliss, 
When  from  thy  balmy  lips  I  drew 
Fragrance  as  sweet  as  Hermia's  dew, 
And  left  the  first  fond  kiss. 

In  such  an  hour,  when  are  forgot, 

The  world,  its  cares,  and  my  own  lot, 

,Thou  seemest  then  to  be, 

A  gentle  guardian  spirit  given 

To  guide  my  wandering  thoughts  to  heaves, 

.'If  they  should  stray  from  thee. 


THE  GREAT  MAN 

THE  great  man  lives  forever  shrined  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
Albeit  form  and  feature  may  fade  from  human  ken; 
Recorded  are  his  actions  on  history's  living  page  — 
They  shine  with  purer  lustre  with  each  successive  age. 
Immortal  aye  immortal,  undying  as  a  God 
The  sands  of  time  are  printed  wherever  his  feet  have 

trod. 
Above  his  dust  no  monument  may  proudly  rear  its 

head 
To  mark  the  spot  where  resteth,  the  mighty  and  the 

dead. 

Heneedeth  no  mausoleum,  nor  shaft  need  pierce  the  sky 
To  point  to  coming  ages,  where  his  sacred  ashes  lie. 
No!  that  may  be  forgotten,  but  around  his  glorious 

name 

Will  shine  the  dazzling  halo  of  a  never  dying  fame. 
His  requiem  will  be  chanted  in  the  wild  bird's  sweetest 

song, 
The  summer  breeze  and  wintry  gale  the  sad  notes  will 

prolong, 
The  flowers  of  spring  time  and  the  leaves  of  autumn 

be  his  pall, 

Long  as  the  one  shall  blossom,  long  as  the  other  fall. 
Here  is  a  noble  lesson.  Oh!  let  it  graven  be 
In  characters  unfading  on  the  page  of  memory. 
Like  the  needle  to  the  mariner  amidst  the  tempest  wrath 
Let  it  fire  your  hopes  and  guide  you  as  you  tread  life's 

thorny  path. 


GRATITUDE 

To  

As  turns  the  eye  to  bless  the  hand  that  led  its  infant 

years, 
As  list'ning  still  for  that  sweet  voice  which  every  tone 

endears, 

So  I  to  thee,  through  mental  power,  would  each  remem 
brance  trace, 
And  bless  the  hand  that  led  me  on  to  fonts  of  lasting 

grace. 

As  sailor  on  the  billowy  deep  hath  seen  some  light  afar, 
And  shunned  the  rock  that  lies  between  his  pathway 

and  the  star, 
So  hast  thou  been  o'er  stormy  wave  to  me,  'mid  sorrow's 

night, 

A  beacon  true  whose  glory  spreads  afar  its  rays  of  light. 
As  flow  sweet  sounds  of  melody  from  strings  drawn  out 

by  skill, 
As  roll  its  wavelets  o'er  the  soul  and  all  its  chambers 

fill, 
So  came  the  words  of  holy  truth  endued  with  wisdom's 

zeal, 
So  fell  their  impress  on  my  heart  and  stamped  it  with 

their  seal. 

As  runs  the  rivulet  its  course  and  swifter  as  it  flows, 
Still  murmuring  of  the  hidden  depths  where  first  its 
waters  rose, 


GRATITUDE  145 

So  evermore  as  life  glides  on  expanding  far  and  wide, 
Will  turn  the  heart  to  where  at  first  was  ope'd  its  holiest 

tide. 
As  pours  the  captive  bird  its  song  to  him  who  sets  it 

free, 

So  flows  my  breath  in  song  of  praise  in  gratitude  to  thee. 
As  o'er  the  earth  the  sun  reflects  its  rays  of  living  light, 
So  thou  by  thy  pure  rays  of  thought  art  power  to  men 
tal  sight. 


AN  ENIGMA 

FIRST,  find  out  a  word  that  doth  silence  proclaim, 
And  that  backwards  and  forwards  is  always  the  same, 
Then  next  you  must  find  out  a  feminine  name 
That  backwards  and  forwards  is  always  the  same; 
An  act,  or  a  writing  on  parchment  whose  name 
Both  backwards  and  forwards  is  always  the  same; 
A  fruit  that  is  rare,  whose  botanical  name 
Read  backwards  and  forwards  is  always  the  same; 
A  note,  used  in  music,  which  time  doth  proclaim, 
And  backwards  and  forwards  is  always  the  same; 
Their  initials  connected,  a  title  will  frame, 
That  is  justly  the  due  of  the  fair  married  dame, 
Which  backwards  and  forwards  is  always  the  same. 


IMPROMPTU 

To  Kate  Carol 

WHEN  from  your  gems  of  thought  I  turn 
To  those  pure  orbs,  your  heart  to  learn, 
I  scarce  know  which  to  prize  most  high  — 
The  bright  i-dea,  or  bright  dear-eye. 


STANZAS 

LADY!  I  would  that  verse  of  mine 
Could  fling,  all  lavishly  and  free, 
Prophetic  tones  from  every  line, 
Of  health,  joy,  peace,  in  store  for  thee. 

Thine  should  be  length  of  happy  days, 
Enduring  joys  and  fleeting  cares, 
Virtue  that  challenge  envy's  praise, 
By  rivals  loved,  and  mourned  by  heirs. 

Thy  life's  free  course  should  ever  roam, 
Beyond  this  bounded  earthly  clime, 
No  billow  breaking  into  foam 
Upon  the  rock-girt  shore  of  Time. 

The  gladness  of  a  gentle  heart, 
Pure  as  the  wishes  breathed  in  prayer, 
Which  has  in  others'  joys  a  part, 
While  in  its  own  all  others  share. 

The  fullness  of  a  cultured  mind, 
Stored  with  the  wealth  of  bard  and  sage, 
Which  Error's  glitter  cannot  blind, 
Lustrous  in  youth,  undimmed  in  age; 

The  grandeur  of  a  guileless  soul, 
With  wisdom,  virtues,  feeling  fraught, 
Gliding  serenely  to  its  goal, 
Beneath  the  eternal  sky  of  Thought:  — 


STANZAS  149 

These  should  be  thine,  to  guard  and  shield, 
And  this  the  life  thy  spirit  live, 
Blest  with  all  bliss  that  earth  can  yield, 
Bright  with  all  hopes  that  Heaven  can  give. 


THE  DIVINE  RIGHT  OF  KINGS 

THE  only  king  by  right  divine 
Is  Ellen  King,  and  were  she  mine 
I'd  strive  for  liberty  no  more, 
But  hug  the  glorious  chains  I  wore. 

Her  bosom  is  an  ivory  throne, 
Where  tyrant  virtue  reigns  alone; 
No  subject  vice  dare  interfere, 
To  check  the  power  that  governs  here. 

Oh!  would  she  deign  to  rule  my  fate 
I'd  worship  Kings  with  kingly  state, 
And  hold  this  maxim  all  life  long, 
The  King  —  my  King  —  can  do  no  wrong. 


THE  VITAL  STREAM 

FLOW  softly — gently — vital  stream ; 
Ye  crimson  life-drops,  stay; 
Indulge  me  with  this  pleasing  dream 
Thro*  an  eternal  day. 

See  —  see  —  my  soul,  her  agony  I 
See  how  her  eye-balls  glare! 
Those  shrieks,  delightful  harmony, 
Proclaim  her  deep  despair. 

Rise  —  rise  —  infernal  spirits,  rise, 
Swift  dart  across  her  brain 
Thou  Horror,  with  blood-chilling  cries, 
Lead  on  thy  hidious  train. 

O,  feast  my  soul,  revenge  is  sweet, 
Louisa,  take  my  scorn;  — 
Curs'd  was  the  hour  that  saw  us  meet, 
The  hour  when  we  were  born. 


COUPLET , 

DEEP  in  earth  my  love  is  lying 
And  I  must  weep  alone. 


LINES  TO  JOE  LOCKE 

As  for  Locke,  he  is  all  in  my  eye, 
May  the  d — 1  right  soon  for  his  soul  call.1 
He  never  was  known  to  lie  — 
In  bed  at  a  reveille  "  roll  call." 

John  Locke  was  a  notable  name; 
Joe  Locke  is  a  greater;  in  short, 
The  former  was  well  known  to  fame, 
But  the  latter  's  well  known  "  to  report." 


ADDITIONAL   POEMS  WITH 
POETRY  ATTRIBUTED  TO  POE 


ADDITIONAL   POEMS   WITH 
POETRY  ATTRIBUTED  TO  POE 

SONG  OF  TRIUMPH 

(From  tale  Four  Beasts  In  One) 
Southern  Literary  Messenger 

WHO  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Say  —  do  you  know? 
Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Bravo  —  bravo! 
There  is  none  but  Epiphanes, 

No  —  there  is  none: 
So  tear  down  the  temples, 

And  put  out  the  sun! 
Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Say  —  do  you  know? 
Who  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 

Bravo  —  bravo! 


LATIN  HYMN 

(Prom  tale  Four  Beasts  In  One) 
Southern  Literary  Messenger 

A  THOUSAND,  a  thousand,  a  thousand, 
A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand, 
We,  with  one  warrior,  have  slain! 
A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand. 
Sing  a  thousand  over  again! 
Soho!  —  let  us  sing 
Long  life  to  our  king, 
Who  knocked  over  a  thousand  so  fine! 
•     Soho!  —  let  us  roar, 
He  has  given  us  more 
Red  gallons  of  gore 
Than  all  Syria  can  furnish  of  wine  1 


THE  SKELETON-HAND 

(Attributed  to  Poe) 
{From  The  Yankee,  August, 


Lo!  one  is  on  the  mountain  side, 
While  the  clouds  are  passing  by  — 

With  their  black  wings  flapping  heavily, 
Like  eagles  in  the  sky; 

Or  lying  up  in  the  forest  trees, 
And  waiting  there  for  the  mountain-breeze. 

And  now  he  passes  through  the  clouds  —  ^ 

And  up  to  the  mountain-top, 
Nor  yet  to  look  for  the  joyous  sun 

Does  the  hasty  traveller  stop. 

But  he  leapeth  down  in  the  broken  path 

With  a  step  as  light  and  free  — 
As  ever  in  his  days  of  mirth, 

In  the  dance  and  revelry. 

Why  endeth  he  his  hasty  speed? 

Why  stoppeth  on  his  way? 
In  truth  it  is  a  fearful  thing, 

For  human  tongue  to  say. 

He  fears  that  toward  him  pointeth  there, 

A  fleshless  human  hand; 
Where  the  mountain  rains  have  swept  away, 

Its  covering  of  sand; 


I6O  ADDITIONAL    POEMS 

That  hand  his  very  soul  doth  stir, 
For  it  proveth  him  a  murderer. 

Ay  long  ago  on  the  mountain  side, 

The  fearful  deed  was  done; 
And  the  murderer  thought  him  safe,  that  none 

Could  see,  save  the  broad  bright  sun, 
As  he  rolled  in  the  heavens  the  dead  above, 

And  flooded  the  earth  with  his  rays  of  love. 

Now  lifted  he  his  clouded  eye, 

To  the  mountain  crests  behind; 
And  o'er  them  came  the  broad  black  clouds, 

Upheaving  with  the  wind; 
And  on  them  their  thick  darkness  spread  — 

A  crown  upon  the  mountain's  head. 

And  then  shone  out  the  flaming  sun, 

From  the  waters  of  the  sea; 
And  God's  own  bow  came  in  the  clouds, 

And  looked  out  gloriously; 
But  its  colours  were  of  wo  and  wrath, 

That  threw  their  light  o'er  the  murderer's  path. 

And  now  God's  chariots  —  the  clouds, 

Came  rolling  down  with  might; 
Their  wheels  like  many  horsemen  were, 

In  battle  or  in  flight. 
And  yet  no  power  to  move  hath  he, 

His  soul  is  in  an  agony. 

Over  the  murderer  and  dead 
They  rolled  their  mighty  host; 


THE   SKELETON-HAND  l6l 

Old  ocean's  waves  come  not  so  thick, 
By  northern  tempests  tost. 

Forth  from  their  mighty  bosom  came, 

A  flash  of  heaven's  wrath, 
And  away  the  heavy  clouds  —  and  dun, 

Rolled  from  the  murder-path. 
And  the  sun  shone  out  where  the  murderer  lay, 
Before  the  dead  in  the  narrow  way  — 
With  his  hand  all  seared,  and  his  breast  torn  bare  — 
God's  vengeance  had  been  working  there. 

P. 


THE  MAGICIAN1 

(Attributed  to  Poe) 

{From  The  Yankee,  December.  /Sap.] 
MAGICIAN 

THOU  dark,  sea-stirring  storm, 
Whence  comest  thou  in  thy  might  — 
Nay  —  wait,  thou  dim  and  dreamy  form  — 
Storm  spirit,  I  call  thee  —  't  is  mine  of  right  — 
Arrest  thee  in  thy  troubled  flight. 

STORM  SPIRIT 

Thou  askest  me  whence  I  came  — 

I  came  o'er  the  sleeping  sea, 

It  roused  at  my  torrent  of  storm  and  flame, 

And  it  howled  aloud  in  its  agony, 

And  swelled  to  the  sky  —  that  sleeping  sea. 

Thou  askest  me  what  I  met  — 

A  ship  from  the  Indian  shore, 

A  tall  proud  ship  with  her  sails  all  set  — 

Far  down  in  the  sea  that  ship  I  bore, 

My  storms  wild  rushing  wings  before. 

And  her  men  will  forever  lie, 
Below  the  unquiet  sea; 
And  tears  will  dim  full  many  an  eye, 
1  The  punctuation  throughout  is  the  author's  —  by  desire. 


THE   MAGICIAN  163 

Of  those  who  shall  widows  and  orphans  be, 
And  their  days  be  years  —  for  their  misery. 

A  boat  with  a  starving  crew  — 

For  hunger  they  howled  and  swore; 

While  the  blood  from  a  fellow's  veins  they  drew 

I  came  upon  them  with  rush  and  roar  — 

Far  under  the  waves  that  boat  I  bore. 

Two  ships  in  a  fearful  fight  — 

When  a  hundred  guns  did  flash 

I  came  upon  them  —  no  time  for  flight  — 

But  under  the  sea  their  timbers  crash 

And  over  their  guns  the  wild  waters  dash 

A  wretch  on  a  single  plank  — 

And  I  tossed  him  on  the  shore  — 

A  night  and  a  day  of  the  sea  he  drank, 

But  the  wearied  wretch  to  the  land  I  bore  — 

And  now  he  walketh  the  earth  once  more. 


MAGICIAN 
Storm  spirit  —  go  on  thy  path  — 

The  spirit  has  spread  his  wings  — 

And  comes  on  the  sea  with  a  rush  of  wrath, 

As  a  war  horse  when  he  springs  — 

And  over  the  earth  his  winds  he  flings  — • 

And  over  the  earth  —  nor  stop  nor  stay  — 

The  winds  of  the  storm  king  go  out  on  their  way. 


QUEEN  OF  MAY  ODE 

FAIRIES  guard  the  Queen  of  May, 
Let  her  reign  in  Peace  and  Honor  — 
Every  blessing  be  upon  her; 
May  her  future  pathway  lie, 
All  beneath  a  smiling  sky. 

NOTE 

Mrs.  Harriet  Virginia  Thomson,  ne'e  Scott,  of  Austin,  Texas,  who 
is  over  ninety  years  of  age,  knew  Poe  in  Richmond,  Va.  She  lived 
there  with  her  parents  when  a  girl,  residing  on  the  Main  street 
near  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  office.  She  saw  Poe  pass  her 
house  several  tunes  daily,  and  in  those  early  days  looked  upon 
him  as  a  great  poet. 

Her  school  was  to  have  a  May  Queen  celebration,  and  she  was 
required  to  recite  verses  to  the  May  Queen.  In  company  with  a 
cousin,  an  attorney,  of  Richmond,  and  a  warm  friend  of  Mr.  Poe's, 
she  called  at  the  Messenger  office,  and  asked  Mr.  Poe  to  write 
her  a  May  Queen  Ode. 

He  readily  complied,  and  sent  her  the  lines  the  following  day. 
The  manuscript  was  preserved  for  some  time,  but  finally  went 
astray. 

Mrs.  Thomson  remembers  that  there  were  four  or  five  stanzas, 
as  she  committed  them  to  memory,  and  recited  them  on  the 
occasion.  One  of  the  stanzas,  she  says,  she  never  forgot,  and  gives 
it  as  above  from  memory. 

The  school  celebration  was  published  in  some  pamphlet  or 
periodical  at  the  time  and  the  lines  printed,  but  she  does  not  think 
they  were  credited  to  Mr.  Poe. 


FANNY 

THE  dying  swan  by  northern  lakes 
Sings  its  wild  death  song,  sweet  and  clear, 
And  as  the  solemn  music  breaks 
O'er  hill  and  glen  dissolves  in  air; 
Thus  musical  thy  soft  voice  came, 
Thus  trembled  on  thy  tongue  my  name. 

Like  sunburst  through  the  ebon  cloud, 
Which  veils  the  solemn  midnight  sky, 
Piercing  cold  evening's  sable  shroud 
Thus  came  the  first  glance  of  that  eye; 
But  like  the  adamantine  rock, 
My  spirit  met  and  braved  the  shock. 

Let  memory  the  boy  recall 

Who  laid  his  heart  upon  thy  shrine, 

When  far  away  his  footsteps  fall, 

Think  that  he  deem'd  thy  charms  divine; 

A  victim  on  love's  altar  slain, 

By  witching  eyes  which  looked  disdain. 

NOTE 

The  above  was  printed  in  the  Baltimore  Saturday  Visitor  of 

May  18, 1833.   Like  the  poem  "To "  on  the  following  page, 

which  also  appeared  in  the  same  newspaper  May  n,  1833,  the 
verses  were  signed  "Tamerlane." 


ADDITIONAL  POEMS 


TO 


SLEEP  on,  sleep  on,  another  hour  — 
I  would  not  break  so  calm  a  sleep,  • 
To  wake  to  sunshine  and  to  show'r, , 
To  smile  and  weep. 

Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  like  sculptured  thing, 
Majestic,  beautiful  art  thou; 
Sure  seraph  shields  thee  with  his  wing 
And  fans  thy  brow  — 

We  would  not  deem  thee  child  of  earth, 
For,  O,  angelic  is  thy  form! 
But  that  in  heav'n  thou  had'st  thy  birth, 
Where  comes  no  storm 

To  mar  the  bright,  the  perfect  flow'r, 
But  all  is  beautiful  and  still  — 
And  golden  sands  proclaim  the  hour 
Which  brings  no  ill. 

Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  some  fairy  dream 
Perchance  is  woven  in  thy  sleep  — 
But,  O,  thy  spirit,  calm,  serene, 
Must  wake  to  weep. 


OH,  TEMPORA!  OH,  MORES! 

The  Baltimore  No  Name  Magazine  of  October,  1889, 
printed  the  following  as  an  unpublished  poem  by  Poe:  — 

"The  following  verses  which  have  never  before  appeared 
in  print  were  written  by  Edgar  Allan  Poe  at  the  age  of  sev 
enteen,  and  were  for  more  than  half  a  century  in  the  posses 
sion  of  the  late  John  H.  MacKenzie l  of  Henrico  County,  Vir 
ginia,  whose  mother  adopted  Rosalie  Poe,  Edgar's  sister,  at 
the  same  time  that  Edgar  was  adopted  by  Mrs.  Allan  of 
Richmond.  The  satire  is  interesting  as  perhaps  the  earliest  of 
Poe's  writings  known  to  exist.  The  luckless  Pitts,  lampooned 
by  Poe,  was  a  clerk  in  the  leading  fashionable  dry-goods  store 
of  Richmond  at  the  time,  and  was  paying  court  to  a  youthful 
belle  of  the  period  who  afterwards  married  a  prominent  Vir 
ginia  politician  and  member  of  Congress,  and  who  sometimes 
smiled  dans  sa  premiere  jeunesse  on  the  wayward  young 
Edgar  with  the  bright  eyes  and  hyacinthine  curls.  Doubt 
less  that  lady's  escritoire  contained  many  a  woful  ballad 
and  lovesick  sonnet  of  the  precocious  madcap.  The  fre 
quent  use  of  parliamentary  phrases,  and  the  mention  of  mem 
ber's  claws  and  member's  logic  shows  that  'Oh,  Temporal 
Oh,  Mores!'  was  written  chiefly  for  the  ridicule  of  Pitts  in 
the  eyes  of  certain  members  of  the  Virginia  legislature  who 
were  then  boarding  in  the  same  house  with  him. 

"  All  the  parties  in  any  manner  connected  with  this  lam 
poon  —  the  fair  lady,  the  distinguished  M.  C.,  the  author 
and  his  victim  —  have  long  since  passed  away,  and  its  pub 
lication  now  can  wound  the  sensibility  of  no  human  being, 

1  He  was  a  youthful  companion  of  Poe. 


1 68  ADDITIONAL   POEMS 

while  the  numberless  admirers  of  the  author  of  'The  Raven* 
will  read  with  interest  an  authentic  poem  written  by  him 
when  a  boy,  —  an  interest  similar  in  kind  —  if  not  as  great 
in  degree  —  to  that  which  would  be  inspired  by  a  juvenile 
production  of  Tennyson  or  Sir  Walter  Scott." 

OH,  TEMPORA!  OH,  MORES! 

OH  Times!  Oh  Manners!  It  is  my  opinion 
That  you  are  changing  sadly  your  dominion  — 
I  mean  the  reign  of  manners  hath  long  ceased, 
For  men  have  none  at  all,  or  bad  at  least; 
And  as  for  times,  although  't  is  said  by  many 
The  "good  old  times"  were  far  the  worst  of  any, 
Of  which  sound  doctrine  I  believe  each  tittle, 
Yet  still  I  think  these  worse  than  them  a  little. 

I  've  been  a  thinking,  is  n't  that  the  phrase? 

—  I  like  your  Yankee  words  and  Yankee  ways  — 

I  Ve  been  a  thinking,  whether  it  were  best 

To  take  things  seriously  or  all  in  jest; 

Whether  with  Heraclitus  of  yore 

To  weep,  as  he  did,  till  his  eyes  were  sore, 

Or  rather  laugh  with  him,  that  queer  Philosopher, 

Democritus  of  Thrace,  who  used  to  toss  over 

The  page  of  life  and  grin  at  the  dog-ears, 

As  though  he  'd  say,  "Why  who  the  devil  cares?" 

This  is  a  question  which,  Oh  Heaven,  withdraw 
The  luckless  query  from  a  Member's  claw! 
Instead  of  two  sides,  Job  has  nearly  eight, 
Each  fit  to  furnish  forth  four  hours  debate: 
What  shall  be  done?  I  '11  lay  it  on  the  table, 
And  take  the  matter  up  when  I  'm  more  able, 


OH,  TEMPORA!  OH,  MORES!  169 

And  in  the  meantime,  to  prevent  all  bother, 
I  '11  neither  laugh  with  one  or  cry  with  t'other, 
Nor  deal  in  flattery  or  aspersions  foul, 
But,  taking  one  by  each  hand,  merely  growl. 

Ah  growl,  say  you,  my  friend,  and  pray  at  what? 

Why  really,  sir,  I  almost  had  forgot  — 

But  damn  it,  sir,  I  deem  it  a  disgrace 

That  things  should  stare  us  boldly  in  the  face, 

And  daily  strut  the  street  with  bows  and  scrapes, 

Who  would  be  men  by  imitating  apes. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  reader,  for  the  oath, 

The  monkey  made  me  swear,  though   something 

loath; 

I  'm  apt  to  be  discursive  in  my  style, 
But  pray  be  patient:  yet  a  little  while 
Will  change  me,  and  as  politicians  do 
I  '11  mend  my  manners  and  my  measures  too. 

Of  all  the  cities,  and  I  've  seen  no  few,  — 

For  I  have  travelled,  friend,  as  well  as  you,  — 

I  don't  remember  one,  upon  my  soul, 

But  take  it  generally  upon  the  whole, 

(As  Members  say  they  like  their  logic  taken 

Because  divided  it  may  chance  be  shaken) 

So  pat,  agreeable,  and  vastly  proper 

As  this  for  a  neat,  frisky  counter-hopper; 

Here  he  may  revel  to  his  heart's  content, 

Flounce  like  a  fish  in  his  own  element, 

Toss  back  his  fine  curls  from  their  forehead  fair 

And  hop  o'er  counters  with  a  Vestris  air, 

Complete  at  night  what  he  began  A.  M., 

And  having  cheated  ladies,  dance  with  them; 


I7O  ADDITIONAL   POEMS 

For  at  a  ball  what  fair  one  can  escape 
The  pretty  little  hand  that  sold  her  tape, 
Or  who  so  cold,  so  callous  to  refuse 
The  youth  who  cut  the  ribbon  for  her  shoes! 

One  of  these  fish,  par  excellence  the  beau, 
God  help  me,  it  has  been  my  lot  to  know, 
At  least  by  sight,  for  I  'm  a  timid  man 
And  always  keep  from  laughing  when  I  can; 
But  speak  to  him,  he  '11  make  you  such  grimace. 
Lord!  to  be  grave  exceeds  the  power  of  face. 
The  hearts  of  all  the  ladies  are  with  him, 
Their  bright  eyes  on  his  Tom  and  Jerry  brim 
And  dove-tailed  coat,  obtained  at  cost;  while  thec 
Those  won't  turn  on  anything  like  men. 

His  very  voice  is  musical  delight, 

His  form  once  seen  becomes  a  part  of  sight, 

In  short  his  shirt-collar,  his  look,  his  tone  is 

The  "beau  ideal"  fancied  for  Adonis. 

Philosophers  have  often  held  dispute 

As  to  the  seat  of  thought  in  man  and  brute, 

For  that  the  power  of  thought  attend  the  latter 

My  friend,  the  beau,  hath  made  a  settled  matter, 

And  spite  all  dogmas  current  in  all  ages, 

One  settled  fact  is  better  than  ten  sages. 

For  he  does  think,  although  I  'm  oft  in  doubt 

If  I  can  tell  exactly  what  about. 

Ah  yes!  his  little  foot  and  ancle  trim, 

'T  is  there  the  seat  of  reason  lies  in  him; 

A  wise  philosopher  would  shake  his  head, 

He  then,  of  course,  must  shake  his  foot  instead. 


OH,  TEMPORA!  OH,  MORES!          171 

At  me  in  vengeance  shall  that  foot  be  shaken  — 
Another  proof  of  thought,  I  'm  not  mistaken  — 
Because  to  his  cat's  eyes  I  hold  a  glass 
And  let  him  see  himself  a  proper  ass? 
I  think  he  '11  take  this  likeness  to  himself, 
But  if  he  won't  he  shall,  the  stupid  elf, 
And,  lest  the  guessing  throw  the  fool  in  fits, 
I  close  the  portrait  with  the  name  of  PITTS. 

NOTE 

The  Editor  of  the  Magazine,  Mr.  Eugene  L.  Didier,  wrote  me 
that  the  poem  was  sent  him  by  John  R.  Thompson  of  the  South 
ern  Literary  Messenger,  and  that  the  introduction  was  written  by 
Thompson. 

The  original  manuscript  of  this  poem  in  Poe's  autograph'was  once 
in  the  possession  of  John  H.  MacKenzie.  It  was  destroyed  with 
other  Poe  papers  by  fire  during  the  Civil  War.  A  copy  reading  like 
the  above  verses'is  still  preserved  by  a  step-daughter  of  Mr.  Mac 
Kenzie,  with  an  account  of  how  it  came  to  be  written  by  Poe  in 
the  year  1826. 


APPENDIX 


APPENDIX 


THE  BALTIMORE  SATURDAY  VISITER,  ETC. 

A  VOLUME  of  The  Baltimore  Saturday  Visiter  for  the  year 
1833  is  preserved  at  Catonsville,  Md.  In  all  probability 
Poe  contributed  to  that  newspaper  the  two  poems  "Fanny" 

and  *'To "  appearing  on  pages  165  and  166  of  the 

present  volume.  The  Visiter  of  April  20,  1833,  also  pub 
lished  the  following  verses:  — 

SERENADE  —  BY  E.  A.  POE 

So  sweet  the  hour  —  so  calm  the  time, 
I  feel  it  more  than  half  a  crime 
When  Nature  sleeps  and  stars  are  mute, 
To  mar  the  silence  ev'n  with  lute. 
At  rest  on  ocean's  brilliant  dies 
An  image  of  Elysium  lies: 
Seven  Pleiades  entranced  in  Heaven, 
Form  in  the  deep  another  seven: 
Endymion  nodding  from  above 
Sees  in  the  sea  a  second  love: 
Within  the  valleys  dim  and  brown, 
And  on  the  spectral  mountain's  crown 
The  wearied  light  is  dying  down: 
And  earth,  and  stars,  and  sea,  and  sky 
Are  redolent  of  sleep,  as  I 
Am  redolent  of  thee  and  thine 
Enthralling  love,  my  Adeline. 
But  list,  O  list!  —  so  soft  and  low 
Thy  lover's  voice  to-night  shall  flow 
That,  scarce  awake,  thy  soul  shall  deem 
My  words  the  music  of  a  dream. 
Thus,  while  no  single  sound  too  rude, 


176  APPENDIX 

Upon  thy  slumber  shall  intrude, 

Our  thoughts,  our  souls  —  O  God  above! 

In  every  deed  shall  mingle,  love. 

A  prize  of  fifty  dollars  was  awarded  Poe,  October  12, 1833, 
for  his  tale  "MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle,"  which  was  pub 
lished  in  the  Visiter  of  October  19.  The  text  mainly  follows 
the  version  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  The  poem 
"Coliseum"  appeared  in  the  Visiter  of  October  26,  1833. 
The  version  closely  follows  that  of  the  Southern  Literary 
Messenger  with  the  exception  of  a  new  line  at  the  beginning: 
"Lone  amphitheatre!  Grey  Coliseum!" 

A  file  of  the  Philadelphia  United  States  Military  Magazine 
has  been  located  by  the  present  editor.  It  contains  selections 
believed  to  be  Poe's,  but  nothing  is  signed  with  his  name. 
A  Poe  couplet  has  been  discovered  in  the  last  issue  of  the 
Broad-way  Journal  for  January  3, 1846,  by  Mr.  Thomas  Ollive 
Mabbott.  It  reads:  — 

I  thought  Kit  North  a  bore  —  in  1824  — 
I  find  the  thought  alive  —  in  1845. 

A  translation  of  Frederick  Spielhagen  from  Westermanns 
Monats-Hefte  on  the  Poe-Longfellow  war  by  Mr.  Carl  A. 
Weyerhauser  points  out  for  the  first  time  that  Longfellow 
in  his  tale  called  Kavanagh,  Chapter  XX,  has  a  character 
(Mr.  Hathaway)  representing  Poe,  while  that  of  Mr, 
Churchill  represents  Longfellow. 

II 

The  following  are  from  The  Yankee  and  Boston  Literary 
Gazette,  New  Series,  July-December,  1829,  John  Neal, 
Editor:  — 

"To  CORRESPONDENTS.1  If  E.  A.  P.  of  Baltimore  — 
whose  lines  about  Heaven,  though  he  professes  to  regard 
1  September,  1829. 


APPENDIX  177 

them  as  altogether  superior  to  anything  in  the  whole  range 
of  American  poetry,  save  two  or  three  trifles  referred  to,  are, 
though  nonsense,  rather  exquisite  nonsense  —  would  but  do 
himself  justice,  he  might  make  a  beautiful  and  perhaps  a 
magnificent  poem.  There  is  a  good  deal  here  to  justify  such  a 

hope: 

Dim  vales  and  shadowy  floods, 
And  cloudy-looking  woods, 
Whose  forms  we  can't  discover 
For  the  tears  that  —  drip  all  over. 
The  moonlight 

falls 

Over  hamlets,  over  halls. 

Wherever  they  may  be, 

O'er  the  strange  woods,  o'er  the  sea  — *> 

O'er  spirits  on  the  wing, 

O'er  every  drowsy  thing  — 

And  buries  them  up  quite 

In  a  labyrinth  of  light. 

And  then  how  deep!  —  Oh  deep! 

Is  the  passion  of  their  sleep  I 

"He  should  have  signed  it,  Bah!  .  .  .  We  have  no  room  for 
others." 

"  To  CORRESPONDENTS  *  Many  papers  intended  for  this 
number  have  been  put  aside  for  the  next,  .  .  .  Among  others 
are  Night  —  The  Magician  —  Unpublished  Poetry  (being 
specimens  of  a  book  about  to  appear  at  Baltimore)." 

"  UNPUBLISHED  POETRY  a  The  following  passages  are 
from  the  manuscript-works  of  a  young  author,  about  to  be 
published  in  Baltimore.  He  is  entirely  a  stranger  to  us,  but 
with  all  their  faults,  if  the  remainder  of  Al  Aaraaf  and  Tamer 
lane  are  as  good  as  the  body  of  the  extracts  here  given  —  to 
say  nothing  of  the  more  extraordinary  parts,  he  will  deserve 

>  November,  1819.  *  December,  1829. 


178  APPENDIX 

to  stand  high  —  very  high  —  in  the  estimation  of  the  shinn 
ing  brotherhood.  Whether  he  will  do  so  however,  must  de» 
pend,  not  so  much  upon  his  worth  now  in  mere  poetry,  as 
upon  his  worth  hereafter  in  something  yet  loftier  and  more 
generous  —  we  allude  to  the  stronger  properties  of  the  mind, 
to  the  magnanimous  determination  that  enables  a  youth  to 
endure  the  present,  whatever  the  present  may  be,  in  the 
hope,  or  rather  in  the  belief,  the  fixed,  unwavering  belief, 
that  in  the  future  he  will  find  his  reward.  'I  am  young/  he 
says  in  a  letter  to  one  who  has  laid  it  on  our  table  for  a  good 
purpose,  'I  am  young  —  not  yet  twenty  —  am  a  poet  —  if 
deep  worship  of  all  beauty  can  make  me  one  —  and  wish  to 
be  so  in  the  more  common  meaning  of  the  word.  I  would 
give  the  world  to  embody  one  half  the  ideas  afloat  in  my 
imagination.  (By  the  way,  do  you  remember  —  or  did  you 
ever  read  the  exclamation  of  Shelley  about  Shakspeare? — 
"What  a  number  of  ideas  must  have  been  afloat  before  such 
an  author  could  arise!")  I  appeal  to  you  as  a  man  that  loves 
the  same  beauty  which  I  adore  —  the  beauty  of  the  natural 
blue  sky  and  the  sunshiny  earth — there  can  be  no  tie  more 
strong  than  that  of  brother  for  brother  —  it  is  not  so  much 
that  they  love  one  another,  as  that  they  both  love  the  same 
parent  —  their  affections  are  always  running  in  the  same 
direction  —  the  same  channel  — and  cannot  help  mingling. 
I  am  and  have  been,  from  my  childhood,  an  idler.  It  can 
not  therefore  be  said  that 

"I  left  a  calling  for  this  idle  trade, 
A  duty  broke  —  a  father  disobeyed"  — 

for  I  have  no  father  —  nor  mother. 

I  am  about  to  publish  a  volume  of  "Poems,"  the  greater 
part  written  before  I  was  fifteen.  Speaking  about  "Heaven,"  * 

1  A  poem  by  the  author  of  "  Al  Aaraaf,"  mentioned  in  No.  Ill:  168. 


MRS.  FRANCES  KEELING  ALLAN 
POE'S  FOSTER-MOTHER 


APPENDIX  179 

the  editor  of  the  Yankee  says,  "He  might  write  a  beauti 
ful,  if  not  a  magnificent  poem"  —  (the  very  first  words  of 
encouragement  I  ever  remember  to  have  heard).  I  am  very 
certain  that  as  yet  I  have  not  written  either  —  but  that  I  can, 
I  will  take  oath  —  if  they  will  give  me  time. 

The  poems  to  be  published  are  "Al  Aaraaf "  —  "Tamer 
lane"  —  one  about  four,  and  the  other  about  three  hundred 
lines,  with  smaller  pieces.  "Al  Aaraaf"  has  some  good  po 
etry,  and  much  extravagance,  which  I  have  not  had  time 
to  throw  away.1 

'  'Al  Aaraaf "  is  a  tale  of  another  world  —  the  star  discov 
ered  by  Tycho  Brahe,  which  appeared  and  disappeared  so 
suddenly  —  or  rather,  it  is  no  tale  at  all.  I  will  insert  an  ex 
tract,  about  the  palace  of  its  presiding  Deity,  in  which  you 
will  see  that  I  have  supposed  many  of  the  lost  sculptures  of 
our  world  to  have  flown  (in  spirit)  to  the  star  "Al  Aaraaf" 
«—  a  delicate  place,  more  suited  to  their  divinity. 

Uprear'd  upon  such  height  arose  a  pile 
Of  gorgeous  columns  on  th'  unburthened  air  — 
*  Flashing,  from  Parian  marble,  that  twin-smile 
Far  down  upon  the  wave  that  sparkled  there, 
And  nursled  the  young  mountain  in  its  lair: 
Of  molten  stars  their  pavement  —  such  as  fall 
Thro'  the  ebon  air  —  besilvering  the  pall  . 
Of  their  own  dissolution  while  they  die  — 
Adorning,  then,  the  dwellings  of  the  sky; 
A  dome  by  linked  light  *  from  Heaven  let  down, 
Sat  gently  on  these  columns  as  a  crown; 
A  window  of  one  circular  diamond  there 

1  This  will  remind  the  reader  of  the  following  anecdote.  Your  sermon  was  too 
long  sir  —  why  did  n't  you  make  it  shorter?  /  had  n'l  lime.  —  (Editor's  Note.) 

*  Alluding  to  a  prior  part. 

•  The  idea  of  linked  light  is  beautiful ;  but,  the  moment  you  read  it  aloud,  the 
beauty  is  gone.  To  say  link-ed  light  would  be  queer  enough,  notwithstanding 
Moore's  "wreath-ed  shell  ";  but  to  say  link'd-light  would  spoil  the  rhythm. 
(Editor's  Note.] 


ISO  APPENDIX 

Looked  out  above  into  the  purple  air, 

And  rays  from  God  shot  down  that  meteor  chain 

And  hallow'd  all  the  beauty  twice  again, 

Save  when,  between  th'  Empyrean,  and  that  ring, 

Some  eager  spirit  flapp'd  a  dusky  wing: 

But,  on  the  pillars,  seraph  eyes  have  seen 

The  dimness  of  this  world:  that  grayish  green 

That  nature  loves  the  best  for  Beauty's  grave, 

Lurked  in  each  cornice  —  round  each  architrave  — 

And  every  sculptur'd  cherub  thereabout 

That  from  his  marble  dwelling  ventured  *  out, 

Seemed  earthly  in  the  shadow  of  his  niche  — 

Archaian  statues  in  a  world  so  rich? 

Friezes  from  Tadmor  and  Persepolis  — 

From  Balbec  and  the  stilly,  clear  abyss 

Of  beautiful  Gomorrah!  —  oh!  the  wave 

Is  now  upon  thee  —  but  too  late  to  save! 

Far  down  within  the  crystal  of  the  lake 

Thy  swollen  pillars  tremble  —  and  so  quake 

The  hearts  of  many  wanderers  who  look  in 

Thy  luridness  of  beauty  —  and  of  sin. 

Another  — 

—  Silence  is  the  voice  of  God  — 
Ours  is  a  world  of  words:  quiet  we  call 
"Silence"  —  which  is  the  merest  word  of  all. 
Here  Nature  speaks  —  and  ev'n  ideal  things 
Flap  shadowy  sounds  from  visionary  wings; 
But  ah!  not  so,  when  in  the  realms  on  high, 
The  eternal  voice  of  God  is  moving  by, 
And  the  red  winds  are  withering  in  the  sky! 

From  Tamerlane  — 

The  fever'd  diadem  on  my  brow 

I  claimed  and  won  usurpingly: 
Hath  not  the  same  fierce  heirdom  given 

Rome  to  the  Caesar  —  this  to  me? 

1  The  word  in  the  original  was  peered :  we  have  changed  it  (or  the  reason  stated 
above.  —  (Editor's  Note.) 


APPENDIX  I8l 

The  heritage  of  a  kingly  mind 

And  a  proud  spirit,  which  hath  striven 

Triumphantly  with  human-kind. 

*  *        *        * 

On  mountain  soil  I  first  drew  life, 

The  mists  of  the  Taglay  have  shed 

Nightly  their  dews  upon  my  head; 
And.  I  believe,  the  winged  strife 
And  tumult  of  the  headlong  air 
Hath  nestled  in  my  very  hair. 

*  *        *        * 

So  late  from  Heaven,  that  dew,  it  fell. 

Mid  dreams  of  one  unholy  night, 
Upon  me  with  the  touch  of  Hell  — 

While  the  red  flashing  of  the  light 
From  clouds  that  hung,  like  banners,  o'er, 
Seem'd  then  to  my  half-closing  eye 
The  pageantry  of  monarchy; 
And  the  deep  trumpet-thunder's  roar 
Came  hurriedly  upon  me  telling 
Of  human  battle  (near  me  swelling). 

*  *        *        * 

The  rain  came  down  upon  my  head 
Unshelter'd,  and  the  heavy  wind 
Was  giantlike  —  so  thou,  my  mind  I   ! 
It  was  but  man,  I  thought,  who  shed 
Laurels  upon  me  —  and  the  rush  —  ••> 
The  torrent  of  the  chilly  air 
Gurgled  within  my  ear  the  crush 
Of  empires  —  with  the  captive's  prayer; 
The  hum  of  suitors,  and  the  tone 
Of  flattery  round  a  sovereign-throne. 

*  *        *        * 

Young  Love's  first  lesson  is  the  heart: 
For  mid  that  sunshine  and  those  smiles, 

When,  from  our  little  cares  apart, 
And  laughing  at  her  girlish  wiles, 

I  'd  throw  me  on  her  throbbing  breast, 
And  pour  my  spirit  out  in  tears, 


1 82  APPENDIX 

There  was  no  need  to  speak  the  rest  -— 

No  need  to  quiet  any  fears 
Of  her  —  who  ask'd  no  reason  why, 
But  turned  on  me  her  quiet  eye. 

Tamerlane  dying  — 

Father!  I  firmly  do  believe  — 

I  know  —  for  Death,  who  comes  for  me 
From  regions  of  the  blest  afar, 
(Where  there  is  nothing  to  deceive) 

Hath  left  his  iron  gate  ajar; 
And  rays  of  truth  you  cannot  see 
Are  flashing  through  Eternity  — 
I  do  believe  that  Eblis  hath 
A  snare  in  every  human  path; 
Else  how  when  in  the  holy  grove 
I  wandered  of  the  idol,  Love, 
Who  daily  scents  his  snowy  wings 
With  incense  of  burnt  offerings 
From  the  most  undefiled  things  — 
Whose  pleasant  bowers  are  yet  so  riven 
Above  with  trelliced  rays  from  Heaven 
No  mote  may  shun  —  no  tiniest  fly 
The  lightning  of  his  eagle  eye. 
How  was  it  that  Ambition  crept 

Unseen,  amid  the  revels  there, 
Till,  growing  bold,  he  laugh'd  and  leapt 

In  the  tangles  of  Love's  brilliant  hair? 

Passage  from  the  minor  poems. 

If  my  peace  hath  flown  away 
In  a  night  —  or  in  a  day  — 
In  a  vision  —  or  in  none  — 
Is  it  therefore  the  less  gone? 
I  am  standing  mid  the  roar 
Of  a  weatherbeaten  shore, 
And  I  hold  within  my  hand 
Some  particles  of  sand  — 


APPENDIX 

How  few!  and  how  they  creep 
Through  my  fingers  to  the  deep! 
My  early  hopes?  —  No  —  they 
Went  gloriously  away, 
Like  lightning  from  the  sky 
At  once  —  and  so  will  I." 

Having  allowed  our  youthful  writer  to  be  heard  in  his 
own  behalf,  —  what  more  can  we  do  for  the  lovers  of  genu 
ine  poetry?  Nothing.  They  who  are  judges  will  not  need 
more;  and  they  who  are  not  — why  waste  words  upon  them? 
We  shall  not. 

HI 

MYTHICAL  POE  POEMS 

Quite  a  number  of  mythical  Poe  poems  have  been  pub 
lished.  The  three  widest  circulated  of  such  poems  are  "The 
Fire  Legend,"  "Leonainie,"  and  "Kelah." 

The  following  named  pamphlet  written  hi  heroic  couplets 
and  comprising  nine  hundred  and  fifty  lines  and  signed 
Lavante  has  also  been  reprinted  with  an  effort  to  show  that 
Poe  was' the  author:  "The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America. 
A  Satire.  Philadelphia  William  S.  Young  —  No.  173  Race 
Street  1847." 

IV 

LETTERS  RELATING  TO  POE 

A  collection  of  eight  autograph  letters  of  Thomas  W. 
White,  proprietor  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger, 
written  to  Lucian  Minor  (at  one  time  associated  with  him 
on  the  Messenger),  during  Poe's  first  year  with  the  magazine, 
have  never  been  published.  They  serve  to  throw  new  light 


1 84  APPENDIX 

on  Poe's  connections  with  the  Messenger  during  his  early 
career  in  Richmond,  Virginia. 

(1)  A.  L.  S.,  i  p.,  4to. 

RICHMOND,  August  18, 1835. 

I  have,  my  dear  sir,  been  compelled  to  part  with  Mr. 
Sparhawk  as  regular  editor.  ...  He  will,  however,  con 
tinue  to  assist  me.  Mr.  Poe  is  here  also.  He  tarries  one 
month  and  will  aid  me  all  that  lies  in  his  power. 

(2)  A.  L.  S.,  2  pp.,  4to. 

RICHMOND,  September  8, 1835. 

Poe  is  now  in  my  employ  —  not  as  editor.  He  is  unfor 
tunately  rather  dissipated  —  and  therefore  I  can  place  very 
little  reliance  upon  him.  His  disposition  is  quite  amiable. 
He  will  be  some  assistance  to  me  in  proof-reading  —  at 
least  I  hope  so. 

(3)  A.  L.  S.,  a  pp.,  4to. 

RICHMOND,  September  21,  1835. 

Poe  has  flew  the  track  already.  His  habits  were  not  good. 
He  is  in  addition  a  victim  of  melancholy.  I  should  not  be  at 
all  astonished  to  hear  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  suicide. 

(4)  A.  L.  5.,  3  pp.,  4to. 

RICHMOND,  October  i,  1835. 

I  have  just  seen  Mr.  Heath.  He  thinks  he  can  manage  the 
autography  for  me.  He  proposes  striking  out  Cooper's  and 
Irving's  names.  I  will  not  put  the  article  in  till  I  hear  from 
you.  Give  me  your  candid  opinion  of  it.  Poe  is  its  author. 

(5)  A.  L.  S.,  i  p.,  4to. 

RICHMOND,  October  20,  1835. 

Mr.  Poe,  who  is  with  me  again,  read  (your  address)  over 
by  copy  with  great  care.  He  is  very  much  pleased  with  it  — 


APPENDIX  185 

in  fact  he  passes  great  encomiums  upon  it  to  me,  and  intends 
noticing  it  under  the  head  of  Reviews. 

(6)  A.  L.  S.,  i  p.,  small  folio. 

RICHMOND,  October  24, 1835. 

Suppose  you  send  me  a  modest  paragraph,  mentioning 
.  .  .  the  paper  is  now  under  my  own  editorial  management, 
assisted  by  several  gentlemen  of  distinguished  literary  attain 
ments.  You  may  introduce  Mr.  Poe's  name  as  amongst 
those  engaged  to  contribute  for  its  columns  —  taking  care 
not  to  say  as  editor. 

(7)  A.  L.  S.,  3  pp.,  4to. 

RICHMOND,  November  23, 1835. 

You  are  altogether  right  about  the  Leslie  critique.  Poe 
has  evidently  shown  himself  no  lawyer  —  whatever  else 
he  may  be. 

(8)  A.  L,  S.,  2  pp.  4to. 

RICHMOND,  December  25, 1835. 

All  the  critical  notices  are  from  the  pen  of  Poe  —  who,  I 
rejoice  to  tell  you,  still  keeps  from  the  Bottle. 

There  is  also  among  the  collection  a  letter  addressed  to 
Lucian  Minor  altogether  in  Poe's  autograph,  but  signed  by 
Thomas  W.  White. 


I 86  APPENDIX 


THE  ELLIS-ALLAN  PAPERS1 

New  light  is  thrown  upon  the  life  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe  by 
letters  and  documents;  also  original  manuscripts  in  the  hand 
writing  of  the  poet,  to  be  found  among  the  Ellis- Allan 
papers,  deposited  in  the  Library  of  Congress  at  Washington. 
The  collection  consists  of  some  four  hundred  and  forty-two 
portfolios,  and  volumes  of  office  books  and  letters  of  an  old 
Richmond,  Virginia,  firm.  John  Allan,  Poe's  foster-father, 
was  a  member  of  the  firm  until  near  the  time  of  his  death 
in  1834.  His  executor,  James  Gait,  has  left  the  statement 
through  his  son,  Major  John  Allan  Gait,  that  John  Allan, 
previous  to  taking  into  his  home  a  second  wife,  packed  all 
his  first  wife's  personal  letters  and  papers,  as  well  as  his  own, 
into  a  trunk  and  stowed  it  away  in  the  establishment  of 
Ellis  &  Allan.  James  Gait  afterwards  removed  this  trunk  and 
contents  to  his  home  in  Fluvanna  County,  Virginia,  where 
the  younger  Gait  had  gone  over  them.  From  his  recollec 
tions  there  were  more  unpublished  letters  of  Poe's  than  are 
now  deposited  with  the  Valentine  Museum  at  Richmond, 
Virginia.  The  second  Mrs.  Allan  had  later  access  to  these 
papers  and  took  away  mainly  all  the  Poe  letters,  upon  the 
margins  of  which  her  husband  had  written  caustic  com 
ments,  in  answer  to  Poe's  own  arguments,  as  well  as  other 
Allan  family  letters,  in  some  of  which  there  were  references 
to  Poe's  early  trip  to  Scotland.  The  Poe  letters  taken  away 
were  recalled,  as  touching  largely  about  financial  assistance 
given  to,  and  sought  after  by  Poe.  The  letters  in  the  Valen- 

1  Acknowledgments  are  due  Miss  Mary  E.  Phillips,  Mr.  Gaillard  Hunt  and 
Mr.  J.  C.  Fitzpatrick  for  research  assistance  among  the  Ellis-Allan  papers  in  the 
Library  of  Congress.  Extracts  from  these  papers  by  the  writer  were  published 
in  the  New  York  Nation,  July  18,  1912,  and  January  27,  1916. 


APPENDIX  187 

tine  Museum  are  thought  to  number  about  thirty,  if  they 
have  all  the  t  were  taken  by  Mrs.  Allan,  while  nearly  a  dozen 
more  were  left  in  the  trunk.  A  few  of  those  left  were  ad 
dressed  to  the  first  Mrs.  Allan,  and  couched  in  the  most  pas 
sionate  terms  of  an  affectionate  son.  The  Ellis-Allan  papers 
were  long  in  the  possession  of  Colonel  Thomas  H.  Ellis,  a 
son  of  a  member  of  the  old  firm.  He  furnished  abstracts 
from  them  to  Professor  G.  E.  Woodberry,  who  made  the  first 
reference  to  them  in  his  revised  Life  of  Poe.  After  the  death 
of  Colonel  Ellis  the  papers  were  offered  for  sale.  I  purchased 
books,  newspapers  and  other  effects  belonging  to  the  old 
firm,  but  the  bulk  of  the  material  went  to  the  Library  of 
Congress  as  economic  papers.  There  still  remain  in  private 
hands,  however,  important  personal  papers  of  a  similar  na 
ture  to  some  of  those  already  discovered  about  Poe  in  the 
Ellis-Allan  papers  at  Washington,  and  having  reference  to 
the  poet's  earlier  career.  I  have  talked  with  one  most  fa 
miliar  with  these  letters  and  papers,  and  know  their  present 
whereabouts,  but  the  owner  does  not  feel  that  the  tune  has 
yet  arrived  to  allow  an  examination  of  them.  A  letter  writ 
ten  by  Poe  to  the  Mills  Nursery  of  Philadelphia,  mentioned 
in  the  memoir  to  this  volume,  and  returned  to  John  Allan, 
as  well  as  letters  from  Poe  to  Allan,  bitterly  denouncing  his 
foster-father  for  bad  treatment,  are  all  missing  from  the 
collection  of  the  papers  in  Washington.  While  Colonel  Ellis 
has  stated  that  he  destroyed  some  of  the  papers  —  probably 
from  a  kind  feeling  for  the  Allan  family — yet  there  is  a  pos 
sibility  that  some  part  of  them  still  exist,  and  may  come  to 
light  later,  with  other  Poe  matters. 

Poe  in  his  youth  spent  much  of  his  time  about  the  Ellis 
&  Allan  place  of  business,  which  is  shown  in  an  illustration 
elsewhere  in  this  volume.  The  building,  as  well  as  that  of 
the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  adjoining,  were  condemned 


1 88  APPENDIX 

in  the  fall  of  the  year  1916,  and  have  both  been  taken  down. 
The  material,  however,  was  saved  and  much  of  it  utilized 
in  various  ways  at  the  Richmond,  Virginia,  Poe  memorial, 
known  as  The  Edgar  Allan  Poe  Shrine,  a  "  Poe  Pergola  " 
being  made  entirely  from  Messenger  building  material. 

Poe  was  employed  at  the  Ellis  &  Allan  concern  just  after 
his  return  from  college  early  in  the  year  1827.  James  Gait 
in  his  recollections  of  Poe  now  gives  the  first  and  only  con 
temporaneous  account  of  Poe  for  this  period  as  follows: 
"Poe  was  employed  in  the  Ellis  &  Allan  establishment  as  a 
clerk  in  charge  of  dry  goods.  He  never  had  much  heart  in 
his  work,  and  John  Allan  frequently  had  occasion  to  find 
fault,  and  censure  him  for  inattention  to  business.  During 
the  early  years  of  the  firm  they  handled  popular  London 
periodicals,  as  well  as  sheet  music.  In  1827  while  that  branch 
of  the  business  was  being  gradually  curtailed,  because  other 
competing  houses  had  begun  to  make  more  of  a  specialty  in 
that  line,  still  the  firm  carried  a  considerable  assortment  of 
leading  periodicals  and  songs.  Poe's  fondness  for  the  upper 
floor  of  the  building  where  these  literary  matters  were  kept 
was  remarked  upon  long  before  he  left  Richmond  for  col 
lege,  and  it  was  there  that  he  spent  most  of  his  time  when 
he  returned,  whenever  the  vigilant  eyes  of  John  Allan  were 
not  upon  him.  Poe  was  fond  of  music,  having  both  a  mu 
sical  and  cultivated  voice,  and  in  the  earlier  years  sang 
frequently;  but  after  his  return  from  college  showed  less  vi 
vacity,  and  sang  fewer  of  his  favorite  songs.  It  was  generally 
known  among  his  associates  that  Poe  had  poetry  he  ex 
pected  to  have  published  in  a  book,  and  that  some  pieces 
had  already  appeared  in  newspapers.  He  was  shy  about 
reciting,  or  discussing  his  own  poetry,  but  was  familiar  with 
the  verse  of  the  popular  poets,  and  occasionally  would  recite 
some  favorite  poem  to  those  about  the  Ellis  &  Allan  store." 


APPENDIX  189 

James  Gait  recalled  Poe  as  a  lad  of  uncommon  good  ap 
pearance,  who  attracted  general  attention  wherever  he  went; 
that  his  manners  were  always  cheerful  and  gay,  and  al 
though  at  times  reserved,  nothing  of  a  morose  character  was 
observed  in  him,  until  after  his  return  from  college.  He  was 
known  to  drink  wine  and  toddies  at  home,  but  no  excessive 
appetite  for  liquor  was  noticed.  Like  John  Allan,  James 
Gait  did  not  censure  Poe's  faults  at  college  so  much  for 
drinking,  as  he  did  gambling,  and  what  he  further  regarded 
as  a  lack  of  proper  respect  and  obedience  on  Poe's  part  for 
his  patron  John  Allan.  It  was  his  impression  that  Poe  was 
of  an  impatient  disposition  from  his  infancy,  being  always 
fond  of  a  change  of  scene  and  excitement.  He  believed 
that  Poe  was  fully  imbued  in  his  early  youth  with  an  idea 
that  he  would  one  day  become  a  great  writer,  and  was  im 
patient  to  have  his  writings  published,  for  a  try  to  become 
famous.  It  was  James  Gait's  opinion  that  in  order  to  seek 
his  fortune,  and  reach  London  or  some  great  literary  centre, 
Poe  had  run  away  from  his  home  in  the  year  1827. 

The  name  of  Poe  has  not  been  found  on  any  pay  roll  of 
the  Ellis  &  Allan  firm,  which  is  taken  as  a  further  proof  of  the 
parsimony  shown  by  Allan  towards  Poe,  who  doubtless  re 
ceived  his  sole  pay  in  board  and  lodgings.  An  early  reference 
to  Poe  in  the  Ellis-Allan  papers  is  a  letter  from  his  aunt  Eliza 
Poe,  dated  Baltimore  (Md.),  February  8,  1813,  about  two 
years  after  Poe  had  been  taken  into  the  Allan  family.  It  is 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Allan,  and  asks  about  the  welfare  of  little 
Edgar.  A  previous  letter  from  her  had  met  with  no  response 
and  it  would  seem  that  up  to  that  date  there  had  been  no 
intercourse  between  the  two  families.  Eliza  Poe,  the  writer 
of  this  letter,  afterwards  married  Henry  Herring.  It  was  her 
daughter,  and  Poe's  cousin  Elizabeth  Herring,  to  whom  Poe 
made  love  and  wrote  verses  in  her  album  about  the  year  1 83  2, 


APPENDIX 

A  letter  from  John  Allan  to  Charles  Ellis  of  May  14, 
1813,  contains  the  information  that  "Edgar  has  caught  the 
whooping  caugh."  There  are  small  tailor  bills  during  the 
year  1813-14,  for  cutting  suits  for  Edgar.  A  charge  of  $2, 
on  May  3,  1815,  is  for  making  a  suit  of  clothes  for  Edgar. 
There  is  a  letter  from  a  Richmond  schoolmaster  named 
William  Ewing,  to  John  Allan,  from  which  it  might  be  sur 
mised  that  Poe  was  a  pupil  with  him  during  the  years  1814-15. 
In  Poe's  tale  of  "The  Narrative  of  A.  Gordon  Pym  "  he  says: 
"He  sent  me  at  six  years  of  age  to  the  school  of  old  Mr. 
Ricketts,  a  gentleman  with  only  one  arm,  and  of  eccentric 
manners.  ...  I  staid  at  his  school  until  I  was  sixteen  when 
I  left  for  Mr.  E.  Ronald's  academy  on  the  hill."  This  in  a 
measure  tallies  with  the  location  of  Poe's  schools  in  Rich 
mond  and  the  matter  of  locality  is  further  clinched  by  the 
reference  to  "on  the  hill"  —  a  typical  Richmond  expression 
in  Poe's  day  for  one  part  of  the  city.  I  find  that  there  was  a 
one-armed  Richmond  school-teacher  in  Poe's  day  named 
"Ricketts,"  and  the  poet  may  possibly  have  gone  to  his 
school,  or  substituted  the  name  for  "Ewing." 

A  copy  of  a  letter  written  by  John  Allan  to  William  Henry 
Poe,  brother  of  the  poet,  is  dated  November  i,  1824.  At  that 
date  Poe  was  fifteen  years  old,  a  member  of  the  Junior 
Morgan  Riflemen,  and  very  likely  knew  something  of  the 
town,  as  well  as  the  confessed  fault  of  his  foster-father  John 
Allan,  whom  he  stated  in  after  years  "treated  him  with  as 
much  kindness  as  his  gross  nature  admitted."  This  letter  of 
Allan's  to  Poe's  brother  reads:  "I  have  just  seen  your  letter 
of  the  2  5th  ult.  to  Edgar  and  am  much  afflicted,  that  he  has 
not  written  you.  He  has  had  little  else  to  do;  for  me  he 
does  nothing  &  seems  quite  miserable,  sulky  &  ill  tempered 
to  all  the  Family  —  How  we  have  acted  to  produce  this  is 
beyond  my  conception;  why  I  have  put  up  so  long  with  his 


APPENDIX 

conduct  is  less  wonderful.  The  boy  possesses  not  a  Spark  of 
affection  for  us,  not  a  particle  of  gratitude  for  all  my  care 
and  kindness  towards  him.  I  have  given  him  a  much  superior 
Education  than  ever  I  received  myself.  If  Rosalie  has  to 
relie  on  any  affection  from  him  God  in  his  mercy  preserve 
her  —  I  fear  his  associates  have  led  him  to  adopt  a  line  of 
thinking  &  acting  very  contrary  to  what  he  possessed  in  Eng 
land.  I  feel  proudly  the  difference  between  your  principles 
&  his,  &  hence  my  desire  to  Stand  as  I  aught  to  do  in  your 
Estimation.  Had  I  done  my  duty  as  faithfully  to  my  God 
as  I  have  to  Edgar  —  then  had  Death  come  when  he  will, 
had  no  terrors  for  me,  but  I  must  end  this  with  a  devout  wish 
that  God  may  yet  bless  him  &  you  &  that  success  may  crown 
all  your  endeavors  &  between  you  your  poor  sister  Rosalie 
may  not  suffer.  At  least  she  is  half  your  Sister  &  God  for 
bid  dear  Henry  that  we  should  visit  upon  the  living  the 
Errors  and  frailties  of  the  dead.  Believe  me  Dear  Henry  we 
take  an  affectionate  interest  in  your  destinies  and  our  United 
Prayers  will  be  that  the  God  of  Heaven  will  bless  &  protect 
you,  rely  on  him  my  Brave  &  excellent  Boy,  who  is  willing 
&  ready  to  save  to  the  uttermost.  May  he  keep  you  in 
Danger,  preserve  you  always,  is  the  prayer  of  your  Friend 
&  Servant." 

This  letter  shows  that  the  strife  between  John  Allan  and 
Poe,  which  was  to  end  in  the  latter  leaving  home  a  few  years 
later,  had  now  surely  started.  When  Poe's  mother  died  in 
Richmond  John  Allan  took  charge  of  the  few  effects  she  left, 
including  a  packet  of  old  letters.  Some  of  these  letters  are 
said  to  have  let  out  a  skeleton  in  the  Poe  family  closet.  Poe 
was  known  to  have  had  these  letters,  and  at  his  death  they 
passed  to  Mrs.  Clemm,  his  aunt  and  mother-in-law.  She 
hinted  of  dark  family  troubles  that  had  worried  "Eddie,"  as 
she  called  Poe,  but  believed  that  in  destroying  the  letters 


192  APPENDIX 

before  she  died,  all  knowledge  of  the  matters  had  been 
blotted  out. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  Allan  was  careful  to  keep  a  copy  of 
his  letter,  possibly  to  show  Poe,  fearing  that  he  was  telling 
tales  in  Baltimore,  like  at  home.  With  Poe's  knowledge  of 
Allan's  fault  it  is  an  impression  that  Allan  held  over  him 
his  own  family  secret  in  order  to  keep  him  quiet.  This 
charge  of  Allan's,  if  true,  might  have  been  the  cause  for  the 
alleged  desertion  of  Poe's  father  from  the  family.  The  mat 
ter  alluded  to  in  Allan's  letter  seems  to  have  been  known 
and  talked  about  by  others  intimate  in  the  Allan  household, 
and  William  MacKenzie,  a  patron  of  Rosalie  Poe,  wrongfully 
accused. 

A  number  of  entries  and  notes  among  the  papers  have 
reference  to  John  Allan's  departure  on  the  ship  "Lothair" 
for  Europe  June  22,  1815,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  her  sis 
ter  Miss  Ann  M.-.  Valentine  and  Edgar.  Among  the  entries 
is  shown  the  purchase  of  one  "Olive  Branch,"  one  "Mur 
ray's  Reader,"  and  two  "Murray's  Spellers,"  all  likely  in 
tended  for  Edgar's  use  on  the  voyage. 

A  letter  brought  back  by  the  pilot  boat  to  Norfolk  showed 
that  the  water  trip  had  already  proved  a  severe  trial  to  the 
women  folks,  but  it  added,  "Ned  cares  but  little  about  it, 
poor  fellow."  Another  Allan  letter  is  dated  Liverpool,  July 
29, 1815,  giving  an  account  of  the  trip  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  states  that "  Edgar  was  a  little  sick,  but  had  recovered." 
A  letter  of  Allan's  dated  Greenock,  September  21,  1815,  has 
in  it,  "Edgar  says,  Pa:  Say  something  for  me;  say  I  was  not 
afraid  coming  across  the  sea."  Allan  in  another  letter  dated 
Blake's  Hotel,  London,  October  10,  1815,  announces  the 
arrival  of  the  family  there  on  the  yth,  by  way  of  Glasgow, 
Newcastle  and  Sheffield,  also  mentioning  the  attractions  of 
the  Scotland  trip  as  "high  in  all  respects." 


APPENDIX  193 

In  a  letter  written  by  Allan,  dated  October  15, 1815,  from 
his  residence  in  Southampton  Row,  London,  the  family  are 
represented  as  "seated  before  a  snug  fire  in  a  nice  little 
sitting  parlour  with  Edgar  reading  a  little  story  book." 
A  pathetic  reminder  of  Poe's  earliest  childish  romance  is  a 
message  in  a  letter  from  his  first  little  sweetheart,  Catherine 
Poitiaux,  the  god-child  of  the  first  Mrs.  Allan,  mentioned 
in  the  memoir  to  this  volume.  She  said:  "Give  my  love  to 
Edgar  and  tell  him  I  want  to  see  him  very  much.  I  expect 
Edgar  does  not  know  what  to  make  of  such  a  large  city  as 
London.  Tell  him  Josephine  [Miss  Poitiaux's  younger  sis 
ter]  and  all  the  children  want  to  see  him."  In  the  Phila 
delphia  Saturday  Museum  sketch  of  Poe's  life  he  had  it  stated 
that  only  a  portion  of  his  five  years'  stay  in  London  was 
spent  at  the  school  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  Bransby.  There 
remain  documents  to  substantiate  this.  He  also  attended 
the  boarding  school  of  the  Misses  Dubourg  at  146  Sloan 
Street,  Chelsea,  London.  In  his  tale  of  "The  Murders  in  the 
Rue  Morgue,"  Poe  has  a  character  named  Pauline  Dubourg. 
The  documents  show  that  he  was  a  pupil  there  from  about 
April,  1816,  until  probably  early  in  December,  1817.  He  was 
at  Bransby 's  school  from  the  autumn  of  1817  until  the  sum 
mer  of  1820  when  he  returned  to  America,  as  is  also  shown 
by  documents.  This  leaves  a  hiatus  of  some  months  in  his 
school  history.  The  references  of  Poe  to  Rev.  Dr.  John 
Bransby  have  been  questioned,  as  no  degree  of  doctor  has 
yet  been  found.  It  is  presumed  that  if  there  was  no  aca 
demical  degree  for  the  title,  it  was  erroneously  used  during 
Poe's  day,  and  that  it  was  Poe's  belief  that  Bransby  was 
entitled  to  be  called  doctor.  There  are  a  number  of  refer 
ences  to  "Edgar  "  and  his  schooling  abroad  in  Allan's  let 
ters,  and  one  dated  June  22, 1818,  says:  "Edgar  is  both  able 
and  willing  to  receive  instructions,"  which  might  infer  that 


194  APPENDIX 

Poe's  earlier  dispositions  in  these  respects  were  not  so 
amiable.  The  papers  show  that  Poe  with  the  family  arrived 
at  New  York  on  July  21,  1820,  after  a  passage  of  thirty-six 
days,  and  reached  Richmond,  Virginia,  on  the  ad  of  August 
following. 

There  are  bills  for  Edgar's  schooling  at  Richmond  to  both 
Masters  Joseph  H.  Clarke  and  William  Burke  during  the 
years  1821-24.  The  few  charges  for  money  given  to  Poe  in 
his  youth  warrant  the  belief  that  Allan's  allowances  were 
always  restricted.  There  are  entries  for  less  than  a  dozen 
small  amounts  for  postage  charged  against  both  Poe  and 
his  sister  Rosalie.  In  January,  1825,  $8.50  is  charged  for 
"Edgar's  clothes." 

There  remain  letters  and  bills  to  substantiate  the 
charge  made  that  Allan's  allowances  to  Poe  at  college  were 
inadequate  for  his  needs.  There  are  also  other  bills  besides 
"debts  of  honor  "  Allan  refused  to  pay,  among  them  a  bill 
from  S.  Leitch,  Jr.,  for  haberdashery  amounting  to  $68.46. 
Two  letters  from  G.  W.  Spotswood  dated  in  April  and  May, 
1827,  are  addressed  to  Allan,  urging  settlement  of  a  bill  for 
sen-ant  attendance  to  Poe's  room  at  the  University  of  Vir 
ginia;  another  letter  from  E.  G.  Crump  of  March  25,  1827, 
relates  to  money  matters  not  a  debt  of  honor.  It  is  addressed 
to  Poe  and  was  evidently  received  by  Allan  after  Poe  had 
left  Richmond  on  his  ocean  trip  towards  Europe.  The  letter 
is  endorsed  on  the  back,  presumably  by  Allan,  "To  E.  A. 
Poe,  alias  Henri  Le  Rennet."  This  is  thought  to  have  been 
the  name  Poe  used  on  his  first  trip  from  Richmond  in  the 
year  1827.  It  should  seem  that  Allan  about  the  time  of  the  re 
ceipt  of  this  letter  had  in  some  manner  learned  of  Poe's  where 
abouts,  or  had  seen  one  of  his  first  letters  written  to  Mrs. 
Allan.  In  a  copy  of  a  letter  from  Allan  to  his  sister  in  Scot 
land  dated  March  27th,  he  wrote:  "I  am  thinking  Edgar  has 


APPENDIX  195 

gone  to  sea  to  seek  his  fortune."  There  is  a  signed  order  in 
the  handwriting  of  John  Allan  dated  March  4,  1828,  as  fol 
lows:  "Mr.  Ellis.  Please  to  furnish  Edgar  A.  Poe  with  a  suit 
of  clothes,  3  pair  socks,  or  thread  Hose.  McCrery  will  make 
them,  also  a  pair  of  suspenders,  and  Hat  &  knife,  pair  of 
gloves."  An  entry  in  the  Ellis  Journal  under  date  of  March  3, 
1829,  is  against  John  Allan.  Pr.  order  to  "E.A.P."  for  just 
about  what  the  preceding  order  called  for,  or  the  palpable  er 
ror  in  the  date  of  Allan's  order  might  make  it  appear  as  if  Poe 
had  been  in  Richmond  during  the  year  1828.  In  the  Journal 
entry  it  is  also  further  shown  that  the  clothes  were  eventually 
made  by  McCrery.  Allan  was  no  doubt  disturbed  by  the 
death  of  his  wife  and  wrote  the  year  date  of  1828  by  mistake. 
It  has  been  stated  that  Poe  arrived  in  Richmond  after  the 
funeral  of  his  foster-mother,  Mrs.  Allan,  who  died  February 
28,  1829.  It  is  mentioned  in  an  official  army  letter  that  Poe 
was  granted  a  leave  of  absence  about  this  period,  but  the  rec 
ord  has  not  been  found.  The  testimony  of  James  Gait,  how 
ever,  now  clears  up  this  matter,  and  what  he  tells  is  borne 
out  by  the  burial  records  of  Mrs.  Allan.  James  Gait  stated 
that  "Poe  was  at  the  funeral,  and  that  the  final  burial  was 
delayed  until  his  arrival  in  Richmond.  It  was  the  dying 
wish  of  Mrs.  Allan  that  she  take  Poe  once  again  in  her  arms 
before  she  died,  and  that  in  the  event  she  passed  away  before 
his  arrival,  that  she  would  not  be  buried  until  he  saw  her." 
The  scene  of  Poe's  arrival  at  the  house  is  depicted  as  most 
harrowing,  as  well  as  great  sorrow  shown  afterwards  by  Poe 
at  his  foster-mother's  grave  in  Shockoe  Cemetery. 

Among  other  books  at  one  time  with  the  Ellis-Allan  ef 
fects,  now  in  my  possession,  is  a  large  day-book  containing 
the  transactions  of  Pumfrey  &  Fitzwhylsown,  old-time  sta 
tioners  and  bookbinders  of  Richmond,  Virginia,  dating  from 
April,  1804,  to  August,  1805.  This  contains  interesting  early 


196  APPENDIX 

items,  among  them  one,  dated  April  12,  1804:  "John  W. 
Green  (Comedian)  To  half  binding  a  book  of  playbills, 
4/6";  another  of  June  27,  same  year,  is  "Mr.  Hopkins, 
(Comedian) ,  To  Black  lead  pencil,  / 1 ."  These  entries  as  well 
as  the  fact  of  the  volume  being  among  the  Ellis- Allan  effects, 
led  me  to  believe  that  the  book  must  have  been  the  property 
of  Poe.  It  looked  like  an  effort  on  the  part  of  Poe,  mentioned 
by  him  later  to  Judge  R.  W.  Hughes,  to  trace  his  own  early 
history.  That  like  his  brother,  William  Henry  Poe,  he  knew 
little  concerning  the  career  or  final  end  of  his  father,  David 
Poe,  Jr.,  seems  evident,  for  while  he  had  possession  of  his 
mother's  letters  and  papers,  he  had  not  so  much  as  an  auto 
graph  of  his  father's.  This  is  shown  by  an  unpublished  man 
uscript  letter  written  by  Poe  to  Joseph  H.  Hedges,  dated 
Philadelphia,  November  16,  1843,  as  follows:  "I  presume 
the  request  you  make,  in  your  note  of  the  i4th,  has  refer 
ence  to  my  grandfather  Gen.  David  Poe,  and  not  to  my 
father  David  Poe,  Jr.  I  regret  to  say,  however,  that,  owing 
to  peculiar  circumstances,  I  have  in  my  possession  no  auto 
graph  of  either."  The  entries  about  the  "Green  Players" 
in  the  old  day-book  seemed  to  be  an  index  to  the  early  ca 
reer  of  Foe's  father,  and  further  investigation  verified  this 
conclusion.  It  has  hitherto  been  the  impression  of  all  Poe's 
biographers  that  David  Poe,  Jr.,  played  upon  the  Charleston 
(S.C.)  stage  about  December,  1803,  and  that  he  began  his 
theatrical  engagement  with  the  "Green  Players,"  including 
Mrs.  Hopkins,  his  future  wife,  at  Petersburg,  Virginia,  in 
November,  1804.  The  old  day-book  showed,  at  least,  that 
the  "Green  Players"  were  in  Richmond  during  the  year 
1804,  and  from  that  data  I  was  able  to  lighten  up  the  dark 
period  in  the  life  of  David  Poe,  Jr.,  from  the  spring  of  1804 
until  the  following  November.  It  should  appear  that  Poe's 
father  left  Charleston  at  the  end  of  the  spring  season  there, 


APPENDIX  197 

if  not  earlier,  and  at  once  joined  the  company  ol  the  "Green 
Players."  The  Virginia  Gazette  of  June  30,  1804,  has  David 
Poe,  Jr.,  with  this  company  in  the  cast  of  "Speed  the  Plow," 
as  "Hewey,"  and  the  same  paper  of  July  25  following  gives 
him  in  the  play  of  the  "Heir  at  Law"  in  the  character  of 
"Henry  Moreland."  So  it  is  conclusive  that  not  only  the 
"Green  Players,"  including  Mrs.  Hopkins,  Poe's  mother, 
but  his  father  David  Poe,  Jr.,  performed  upon  the  Richmond 
stage  during  the  year  1804.  This  is  the  earliest  found  record 
of  Poe's  father  in  Richmond.  The  theatrical  company  left 
Richmond  and  are  on  record  at  Petersburg,  November  3-20, 
1804.  The  company  were  at  Norfolk,  March  iQ-June  la 
following,  and  the  Virginia  Gazette  of  August  28, 1805,  states 
that  "Mrs.  Hopkins  and  other  members  of  the  Charleston 
theatre  made  a  one  night  stop  over  at  Richmond,  on  the 
way  to  the  Federal  city."  There  is  a  recent  hint  of  David 
Poe,  Jr.,  in  Scotland,  where  it  is  said  that  he  ran  away  to 
America  with  a  pretty  blonde  married  woman  named  Wil 
son.  The  story  shows  Edgar  Allan  Poe  as,  later  on,  meeting 
in  school  at  Irvine,  Scotland,  with  a  son  of  this  Mrs.  Wilson; 
one  of  those  "wise  children  who  know  their  own  father," 
and  named  after  the  injured  husband,  William  Wilson. 
This  boy  is  presumed  to  have  been  the  hero  of  Poe's  later 
well-known  tale  called  "William  Wilson."  Mr.  R.  M.  Hogg, 
of  Irvine,  Scotland,  vouches  for  the  facts,  as  told  to  him  by 
the  descendants  of  the  Wilson  family.  I  heard  previous  hints 
of  a  runaway  escapade  of  Poe's  father,  but  the  woman's 
name  was  mentioned  as  Thomas.  A  reference  to  this  matter 
will  be  found  in  G.  E.  Woodberry's  revised  Life  of  Poe,  vol. 
i,  p.  368.  An  entry  in  the  Ellis-Allan  papers  under  date  of 
January  8,  and  another  of  May  12,  1830,  show  that  Allan 
rendered  assistance  to  Poe.  The  later  entry  was  for  blankets, 
probably  for  Poe's  use  at  the  West  Point  Academy. 


198  APPENDIX 

Most  important  among  the  Ellis-Allan  papers  are  a  num 
ber  of  manuscripts  in  Poe's  own  hand.  As  he  wrote  F.  W. 
Thomas  later  in  life,  that  nothing  could  seduce  him  from  the 
noble  profession  of  literature,  these  also  indicate  that  his 
mind  at  the  time  was  strongly  bent  towards  a  career  in  the 
world  of  letters.  The  documents  are  browned  by  age  and 
written  upon  paper  similar  to  that  used  by  the  firm  of  Ellis 
&  Allan  about  the  year  1827. 

A  manuscript  entirely  in  Poe's  autograph  called  "Hope," 
is  copied  from  Goldsmith's  "Song  from  the  Oratorio  of  the 
Captivity."  This  should  show  the  trend  of  Poe's  thought  at 
the  time  it  was  written,  and  its  influence  upon  his  later 
writings.  Another  manuscript  is  a  copy  of  an  early  song 
called  "Ally  Croaker."  In  this  song  Poe  may  have  gained 
some  of  his  later  conceptions  of  the  repetend  in  his  poetry. 
The  idea  in  these  lines  of  a  pawned  coat  losing  a  lady  love, 
with  some  gambling  and  drinking  episodes,  show  a  parody 
on  Poe's  own  self  about  the  time  they  were  copied.  In  them 
he  also  shows  an  early  fondness  for  reconstructing  verse  to 
suit  his  own  taste,  having  made  alterations  from  the  original 
construction  of  the  song.  The  original  song  Poe  copied  from 
was  probably  found  by  him  among  the  early  collection,  then 
in  the  possession  of  the  firm  of  Ellis  &  Allan. 

On  a  strip  of  paper,  much  in  his  usual  later  manner,  and  in 
a  handwriting  closely  approximating  his  well-known  later  day 
autograph,  Poe  copied  verses  on  "The  Burial  of  Sir  John 
Moore"  and  "Extract  from  Byron's  Dream."  As  if  he  had 
intended  to  send  the  copy  of  "The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore" 
to  some  periodical,  Poe  headed  his  paper,  "The  Soldier's 
Burial,"  and  wrote  the  following  lines  which  remain  as  Poe's 
first  known  criticism:  "These  verses  have  been  often  and 
justly  admired  as  the  only  original  essay  on  so  hackney  'd  a 
subject  as  a  Burial  which  has  appeared  for  a  long  time  — 


APPENDIX  199 

They  are  on  the  burial  of  Sir  John  Moore  —  Much  dispute 
has  arisen  concerning  the  writer  of  this  really  elegant  &  orig 
inal  production,  Moore,  Campbell,  Scott  &  Byron  have  all 
been  mentioned  as  the  supposed  writers.  It  has  since  been 
pretty  well  ascertained  to  be  Byron  —  As  for  the  piece  it 
self  it  is  inimitable.  The  poet  —  the  Patriot,  and  the  man 
of  feeling  breathes  thro'  the  whole,  and  a  strain  of  originality 
gives  zest  to  this  little  piece,  which  is  seldom  felt  on  the 
perusal  of  others  of  the  same  kind." 

This  criticism  tends  to  show  Poe  at  that  period  a  close 
reader  of  the  periodical  literature  of  the  day,  and  that  he 
knew  this  poem  had  been  ascribed  to  Moore,  Campbell  and 
Scott,  and  finally  believed  to  be  Byron's.  That  he  was  not 
aware  at  the  moment  that  it  was  written  by  the  Rev.  Charles 
Wolfe  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  for  Medwin  in  his  delightful 
Journal  of  the  Conversations  of  Lord  Byron  tells  of  Byron's 
praise  of  this  gem,  and  how  he  himself  had  thought  that  it 
was  Byron's  own  verse.  It  was  only  in  a  later  edition  of 
his  book  that  Medwin  told  of  his  discovery  of  the  name  of 
the  real  author. 

There  has  hitherto  been  much  guessing  at  the  sources  for 
Poe's  extraordinary  learning,  which  was  not  only  varied, 
but  thorough.  In  his  "Marginalia"  notes  may  be  noted 
the  thoughtful  man  of  letters,  and  in  them  is  also  to  be  de 
tected  signs  of  Poe's  own  education.  It  had  been  supposed 
that  Poe  discovered  his  critical  capacity  for  the  first  time 
while  engaged  on  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger.  The 
criticism  on  "The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore,"  however, 
shows  a  knowledge  and  indications  of  earlier  handling  of 
some  necessary  critical  apparatus  in  literature.  Poe's  studies 
among  the  periodicals  and  songs  at  the  Ellis  &  Allan  es 
tablishment  go  far  towards  establishing  conclusive  proof, 
not  only  of  the  beginning  of  his  scholastic  habit,  but  his  un- 


2OO  APPENDIX 

conscious  education  in  the  critical  line,  from  the  mere  love 
of  it. 

There  is  to  be  found  in  the  Ellis  &  Allan  firm  record  among 
the  periodicals  kept  by  them,  and  such  as  Poe  likely  con 
sulted,  the  London  Critical  Review  or  Annals  of  Literature, 
for  the  years  1791  to  1803,  bound  in  thirty-nine  volumes,  and 
the  Ladies  Magazine,  London,  for  that  period,  bound  in 
thirty  volumes. 

On  the  same  strip  of  paper  with  the  criticism  of  "The 
Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore,"  Poe  continued  the  Byron  lines. 
He  wrote  the  caption,  "Lord  Byron's  Last  Poem,"  which 
he  afterwards  ran  his  pen  through,  and  substituted,  "Ex 
tract  from  Byron's  Dream."  He  commenced  his  lines  from 
"Byron's  Dream"  at  the  beginning  of  Canto  VI.  and  fol 
lowed  the  text  along  closely  into  Canto  VII.  where  it  reads, 

A  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  his  dream. 
The  lady  of  his  love  —  oh,  she  was  changed 
As  by  the  sickness  of 

Poe  stopped  right  there.  It  was  eighteen  years  afterwards 
when  Poe  in  a  magazine  article  on  "Byron  and  Mary  Cha- 
worth,"  wrote  the  following:  "'The  Dream,'  in  which  the 
incident  of  his  parting  with  her  when  about  to  travel,  and 
said  to  be  delineated  or  at  least  paralleled,  has  never  been 
excelled  (certainly  never  excelled  by  him)  in  the  blended 
fervor,  delicacy,  truthfulness  and  ethereality  which  sublime 
and  adorn  it." 

It  is  the  supposition  that  in  writing  the  early  copy  of  the 
"Dream"  verses  Poe  likened  his  own  sad  love  affairs  at  that 
time  to  Byron's,  and  on  a  sudden  impulse  stopped,  as  ap 
pears  above,  and  improvised  and  wrote  on  another  sheet  of 
paper  the  original  verses,  "The  Vital  Stream,"  which  have 
now  been  first  collected  into  his  poems  in  this  volume.  It 
is  to  be  lamented  that  the  original  manuscript  of  this  poem 


APPENDIX  2OI 

has  disappeared  from  among  the  Ellis-Allan  papers  at  the 
Library  of  Congress.  It  is  thought  that  the  wind  carried  it 
into  a  waste-paper  basket  at  the  library,  and  that  it  was 
destroyed.  There  is,  however,  slight  hope  that  it  may  yet 
come  to  light  in  the  collection. 

That  Poe's  poem  "An  Enigma  "  appeared  anonymously 
in  the  Philadelphia  Casket  for  May,  1827,  bears  out  the 
statement  of  James  Gait  that  Poe's  poetry  found  publica 
tion  at  that  period.  It  should  also  seem  Poe's  habit  from 
that  year  to  send  out  his  writings  anonymously.  As  is 
mentioned  in  the  memoir  to  this  volume,  Poe  was  writing 
for  the  Philadelphia  newspapers  about  the  year  1832. 

There  appears  without  name  in  the  Philadelphia  Satur 
day  Courier  for  the  year  1832,  the  following  well-known 
tales  by  Poe:  "Metzengerstein,"  January  14;  "Due  de 
POmelette,"  March  3;  "A  Tale  of  Jerusalem,"  June  9; 
"Loss  of  Breath,"  entitled  "A  Decided  Loss,"  November  10, 
and  "Bon-Bon,"  called  "The  Bargain  Lost,"  December  i. 
There  also  appears  in  this  same  paper  for  October  14,  1843, 
"Raising  the  Wind,  or  Diddling  considered  as  one  of  the 
Exact  Sciences." 

VI 

POE  IN   SCOTLAND1 

The  visits  of  Poe  to  Scotland  must  have  left  vivid  marks 
of  remembrance  upon  his  memory  of  that  classic  region  of 
which  so  many  scenes  and  incidents  are  sketched  with 
truth  and  beauty.  Poe  arrived  at  Liverpool  with  the  Allan 

1  Acknowledgment  is  due  R.  M.  Hogg,  Esq.,  of  Irvine,  Scotland,  for  valu 
able  assistance  in  obtaining  many  facts  connected  with  Poe's  trip  into  Scotland. 
Some  portions  of  this  account  of  Poe's  visits  into  Scotland  by  the  writer  were 
published  in  the  September,  1916,  New  York  Bookman, 


202  APPENDIX 

family  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1815,  and  proceeded 
at  once  to  Scotland,  to  visit  the  Allan  relatives.  While  the 
visit  was  partly  one  of  pleasure,  Allan  was  about  to  estab 
lish  a  branch  of  his  business  in  London  with  tobacco  as  a 
main  staple.  He  had  important  trade  connections  to  make 
in  Scotland,  besides  the  pleasure  of  meeting  again  with  his 
kinsfolk  and  wandering  about  the  scenes  of  his  youth. 

The  first  journey  was  to  Irvine,  Ayrshire,  the  birthplace  of 
John  Allan,  where  Poe  and  the  Allan  family  stopped  with  a 
spinster  sister  of  Allan's  named  Mary  Allan.  There  lived 
at  Irvine  at  that  time  other  near  relatives  of  Allan's  named 
"Gait."  Among  them  was  James  Gait,  then  under  fifteen 
years  of  age,  who  afterwards  came  to  America  with  the  Allan 
family  when  they  returned  home  in  1820.  Young  Gait  was 
a  relative  of  William  Gait  of  Richmond,  an  uncle  to  John 
Allan,  who  assisted  the  Ellis  &  Allan  firm  financially,  and 
from  whom  Allan  later  obtained  a  large  legacy.  The  uncle, 
as  is  shown  by  his  letters  among  the  Ellis-Allan  papers,  was 
not  in  accord  with  Allan's  conduct  in  London,  and  it  looks 
as  if  James  Gait  was  about  the  London  business  establish 
ment  to  keep  him  fully  informed  of  Allan's  doings.  After 
James  Gait's  arrival  in  Richmond,  this  uncle  took  good  care 
for  his  future.  He  finally  settled  on  the  James  River  above 
Richmond,  in  Virginia,  and  was  the  progenitor  of  the  well- 
known  family  of  Goldsboroughs  of  Maryland. 

He  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age,  and  a  son  named  after  Allan, 
Major  John  Allan  Gait,  left  interesting  reminiscences  of  his 
father,  which  throw  important  new  lights  upon  Poe's  early 
career. 

Irvine  is  a  seaport  twenty-three  miles  from  Glasgow,  and 
at  the  time  of  Poe's  visit  differed  somewhat  from  the  present 
day.  There  is  an  illustration  showing  the  town  about  1780, 
and  in  it  is  to  be  seen  the  dwelling  where  John  Allan  was  born, 


APPENDIX  203 

while  opposite  is  a  house  where  Henry  Eckford,  the  con 
structor  of  the  American  Navy  of  1812,  also  first  saw  the 
light. 

At  the  head  of  the  old  Kirkgate  was  the  ancient  grammar 
school  where  Allan  was  educated,  it  is  said,  with  his  relative 
John  Gait  the  novelist,  and  Henry  Eckford.  The  school  was 
a  continuation  of  the  Pre-Reformation  school  in  connection 
with  the  church.  The  old  school  building  was  taken  down  in 
1816,  and  a  new  academy  erected.  There  is  a  possibility 
that  Poe  had  the  old  Irvine  school  building  in  his  mind  while 
writing  his  description  of  the  ancient  school  in  his  tale  of 
"William  Wilson,"  or  at  least  made  a  composite  picture  of 
it  with  his  recollections  of  the  school  at  Stoke  Newington, 
England,  better  known  as  "Bransby's." 

It  was  John  Allan's  early  intention  to  have  Poe  remain 
at  this  school  while  abroad  for  his  education,  but  his  w,ife 
demurred  and  Poe  was  also  opposed  to  being  left  so  far  away 
from  his  foster-mother. 

In  the  same  square  with  the  Allan  house  in  Irvine,  was 
"Templeton's"  book-shop,  where  Burns  the  poet  delighted 
to  browse  among  old  sheets  of  song.  It  was  in  the  year  1781 
that  Burns  went  to  Irvine  to  learn  flax  dressing,  and  the  old 
shop  stands  within  a  stone's  throw  of  where  John  Allan  was 
born.  The  well-known  incidents  in  John  Gait's  "Annals  of 
the  Parish  "  are  taken  from  the  old  town  of  Irvine.  The  Ir 
vine  burial-ground  is  situated  on  a  rise  of  a  bank  of  the  river 
Irvine,  and  alongside  the  parish  church.  There  all  the  Allan 
ancestors  are  buried.  The  Allan  section  adjoins  that  of 
"Dainty  Davie,"  the  friend  of  Burns.  Here  Poe  could  have 
acquired  much  of  his  early  impressions  of  a  grave-yard,  since 
the  death  of  his  own  mother.  The  first  grave-yard  he 
probably  ever  entered  was  the  historic  St.  John's  at  Rich 
mond,  Virginia,  where  Patrick  Henry  delivered  his  pa- 


2O4  APPENDIX 

triotic  address,  and  where  it  is  now  definitely  ascertained 
Poe's  mother  is  buried.  The  Irvine  church-yard  was  the 
second,  and  the  third,  "Shockoe  Cemetery,"  at  Richmond, 
Virginia,  where  pleasant  legends  relate  that  he  kept  vigils 
with  the  spirit  of  his  first  departed  "Helen."  It  is  certain  that 
Poe  was  fond  of  visiting  this  latter  grave-yard,  and  that  he 
was  not  only  about  the  grave  of  Mrs.  Stanard,  his  "Helen," 
but  also  that  of  Mrs.  Allan,  his  foster-mother,  who  in  re 
ality  may  have  been  the  original  of  Poe's  "Helen." 

"Of  all  melancholy  topics,"  Poe  once  asked  himself, 
"what  according  to  the  universal  understanding  of  mankind, 
is  the  most  melancholy?  "  "Death ! "  was  the  obvious  reply. 

There  was  much  about  the  old  Scotch  kirk-yard  at  Irvine 
to  inspire  Poe  with  awe,  and  with  his  love  for  the  odd,  the 
rhyming  tombstones,  and  the  "dregy,"  or  lengthy  funeral 
services  must  have  left  lasting  impressions  on  his  mind.  The 
epitaphs  on  the  tombstones  there  are  most  original  and  in 
the  olden  time  the  grammar  school  scholars  are  said  to  have 
been  required  to  write  some  of  them  out  for  their  examina 
tions.  In  Irvine  near  the  printing  office  of  the  erratic  Max 
well  Dick,  was  a  house  where  Dr.  Robinson,  the  poet 
preacher,  lodged.  Here  one  day  the  well-known  writer  De 
Quincey  came  from  Glasgow  to  visit  him,  but  unfortunately 
the  genial  doctor  was  out.  The  canny  Scot's  landlady  took 
De  Quincey,  with  a  suspicious  looking  volume  under  his  arm, 
to  be  a  book-canvasser,  and  would  not  permit  him  to  come 
in  and  await  the  doctor's  return.  De  Quincey  in  high  dud 
geon  returned  to  the  station,  and  went  back  to  Glasgow. 
On  his  way  to  and  from  the  station  De  Quincey  had  to  pass 
the  house  where  Poe  stopped. 

In  this  connection  it  might  be  recalled  that  Poe  later  on 
proved  an  admirer  of  De  Quincey,  whose  declamatory  inter 
polations  may  be  detected  in  his  writings,  especially  in  the 


THE   FOWLDS    HOUSE,  KILMARNOCK,  SCOTLAND, 
WHERE   POE   STAYED 


WHERE   POE   WENT  TO   SCHOOL,   AT   IRVINE,   SCOTLAND 


APPENDIX  2O5 

tale  of  "  William  Wilson."  While  at  Irvine  Poe  lived  at  the 
Bridgegate  house.  It  was  a  two-story  tenement  dwelling 
owned  by  the  Allan  family,  and  taken  down  about  thirty 
years  ago  to  make  room  for  a  street  improvement.  After 
leaving  Irvine,  Poe  with  the  Allans  went  to  Kilmarnock, 
about  seven  miles  distant  from  Irvine.  He  remained  there 
about  two  weeks  and  stopped  with  another  of  Allan's  sisters 
named  Agnes,  but  called  Nancy,  who  married  a  nurseryman 
named  Allan  Fowlds.  The  site  of  the  old  nursery  is  now 
Fowlds,  Clark  and  Prince  Streets.  The  house  in  which  Poe 
lodged  was  a  small  affair  and  stood  on  the  present  site  of 
the  building  occupied  by  the  Kilmarnock  Standard,  A  house 
opposite  was  occupied  by  a  family  named  Gregory,  who  per 
fectly  remembered  the  visit  of  John  Allan  and  his  family, 
with  little  Edgar  Poe.  In  the  rear  of  the  Fowlds  house  ran 
the  grounds  of  "Kilmarnock  House,"  the  residence  of  Lord 
Kilmarnock,  executed  for  his  share  in  the  '45  Rebellion. 
There  stood  nearby  a  large  grove  of  trees  and  a  beautiful 
walkway  where  the  lord's  widow  passed  much  of  her  time 
after  his  death.  Here  is  also  what  was  once  called  the  "  Ghost 
walk,"  and  there  the  lord's  widow  might  be  seen  after  sun 
down  in  her  pensive  perambulations,  alone,  and  sometimes 
in  company  with  her  murdered  husband.  No  doubt  Poe  had 
heard  of  this  incident,  and  perchance  looked  himself  for 
what  they  called  the  "allagrugous  bawsy-broon,"  or  the 
ghastly,  grim  hobgoblin. 

Nelson  Street  extended  by  a  crooked  lane  to  the  cross  of 
Kilmarnock,  in  the  croon  of  which  was  the  shop  where  Burns' 
first  edition  of  his  poems  was  issued.  The  town  exhibits 
relics  of  Burns,  and  was  formerly  noted  for  its  manufacture 
of  "Kilmarnock  cowles." 

One  end  of  Nelson  Street  led  to  the  old  Irvine  road,  and  a 
number  of  visits  to  and  from  Irvine  were  made  by  Allan  dur- 


2O6  APPENDIX 

ing  his  stay,  on  which  occasions  Poe  invariably  accompanied 
him.  The  old  red  riding  carts  then  abounded  about  Irvine 
and  Kilmarnock,  with  their  creaking  wheels,  and  are  said  to 
have  had  a  special  attraction  for  Poe.  He  was  most  con 
tented  in  one  of  them,  sitting  alongside  the  driver,  usually 
attired  in  coarse  woolen  cloth  "green  duffle  apron,"  and 
thick  nap  "red  kilmarnock  cap."  Close  to  the  Fowlds 
house  in  Kilmarnock  lived  William  Anderson,  an  intimate 
neighbor  of  the  family.  His  son  James  Anderson  died 
December  26,  1887,  aged  84  years.  In  early  life  he  was  an 
accountant  in  the  Union  Bank  and  for  a  long  period  audi 
tor  for  the  corporation  of  Kilmarnock,  as  well  as  chairman 
of  the  Bellfield  Trust.  He  had  vivid  recollections  of  Poe's 
visit  to  Kilmarnock,  and  spoke  with  pride  of  having  played 
in  the  streets  of  the  town  with  Poe.  He  recalled  Poe  as 
"much  petted  by  the  Allans,  and  a  '  carmudgeon,'  or  for 
ward,  quick-witted  boy,  but  very  self-willed." 

Poe  went  from  Kilmarnock  with  the  Allans  to  Greenock, 
situated  on  the  Clyde.  From  there  he  went  to  Glasgow, 
thence  to  Edinburgh,  and  also  stopped  at  Newcastle  and 
Sheffield,  landing  with  the  Allans  at  London  October  7, 1815. 

There  are  many  persons  now  living  in  Irvine  who  have  had 
the  statement  handed  down  to  them  from  their  ancestors 
that  Edgar  Allan  Poe  attended  the  old  Irvine  grammar 
school.  This  is  now  confirmed  by  the  reminiscences  of  James 
Gait,  although  the  stay  of  Poe  there  must  have  been  brief. 
It  was  Allan's  intention  to  leave  Poe  at  the  school  when  he 
visited  the  town,  but  the  women  members  of  the  family  as 
well  as  Poe  objected  and  a  compromise  was  effected  by 
allowing  Poe  to  finish  out  the  Scotland  pleasure  trip,  with 
an  understanding  that  he  was  later  to  accompany  James 
Gait  back  from  London,  to  the  Irvine  school. 

The  exact  time  of  this  second  trip  is  not  mentioned,  but 


APPENDIX  2O7 

there  are  several  gaps  in  Poe's  school  record.  It  is  presumed 
that  the  visit  must  have  been  towards  the  close  of  the  year 
1815.  James  Gait  said  that  there  were  pleadings  from  the 
women  folks  as  well  as  Poe,  of  "not  to  go,"  when  the  time 
came  to  depart  for  Scotland.  It  was  the  opinion,  however, 
that  Poe  would  be  better  satisfied  after  settling  down  there 
and  out  of  the  sight  of  the  home  folks.  The  start  on  the  part 
of  Poe  was  unwilling,  and  Gait  said  he  kept  up  "an  unceas 
ing  fuss  all  the  way  over."  His  aunt  Mary,  as  he  called  Miss 
Allan,  sent  him  to  the  school,  but  there  he  sulked,  and  no 
manner  of  coaxing  or  threats  could  induce  him  to  attempt 
any  studies. 

At  Miss  Allan's  home  he  talked  boldly  about  returning 
back  to  England  alone.  She  feared  that  he  might  try  to 
carry  out  this  threat  and  had  young  Gait  remain  at  her 
home  on  guard  over  Poe.  He  slept  in  the  same  room  with 
Poe  in  the  Bridgegate  house  at  Irvine;  was  impressed  with 
Poe's  old-fashioned  talk  for  one  so  young,  and  like  Miss 
Allan  he  believed  that  if  Poe  had  not  been  restrained  he 
would  have  attempted  the  trip  back  to  England  alone.  Gait 
said  Poe's  self-reliance  and  total  absence  of  fear  impressed 
him  then,  and  up  to  the  time  he  left  John  Allan's  home. 

Poe  showed  no  inclinations  to  become  satisfied  with  his 
surroundings  at  Irvine,  and  in  many  ways  made  it  unpleasant 
for  aunt  Mary  Allan;  so  much  so  that  she  finally  packed  up 
his  "duds,"  as  Gait  said,  and  sent  him  back  to  London. 

This  Scotland  and  other  school  episodes  in  Poe's  life 
possibly  account  for  his  own  statements  of  unhappy  school 
boy  days. 

When  Poe  published  his  tale,  the  "M.  Valdemar  Case," 
a  druggist  at  Stonehaven,  Scotland,  named  A.  Ramsay,  to 
make  sure  the  story  was  true  wrote  a  letter  to  Poe.  This 
letter  of  Ramsay's  to  Poe  has  been  published,  but  no  reply 


208  APPENDIX 

of  Foe's  has  appeared  in  book  form,  until  now,  although  a 
mention  and  its  date  was  made  in  the  first  edition  of  this 
volume.  A  nephew  of  Ramsay's  still  occupies  the  old  Stone- 
haven  warehouse.  He  had  many  of  his  relative's  letters,  but 
none  from  Foe.  The  search,  however,  was  continued  among 
other  relatives,  and  Foe's  letter  finally  brought  to  light.  It 
is  interesting  in  connection  with  the  story  of  Foe's  visits  to 
Scotland.  The  letter  reads:  — 

NEW  YORK,  December  30,  '46. 
DEAR  SIR: 

Hoax  is  precisely  the  word  suited  to  M.  Valdemar  Case. 
The  story  appeared  originally  in  the  "American  Review," 
a  monthly  magazine  published  in  this  city.  The  London 
papers,  commencing  with  the  "Morning  Post"  and  the 
"Popular  Record  of  Science,"  took  up  the  theme.  The 
article  was  generally  copied  in  England  and  is  now  cir 
culating  in  France.  Some  few  persons  believe  it  —  but  / 
don't  —  and  don't  you. 

Very  Resp'y,  yr.  Ob  St. 

EDGAR  A.  FOE 

P.S.  I  have  some  relatives,  I  think,  in  Stonehaven,  of  the 
name  of  Allan,  who  again  are  connected  with  the  Allan's 
and  Gait's  of  Kilrnarnock.  My  name  is  Edgar  Allan  Foe. 
Do  you  know  any  of  them?  If  so,  and  it  would  not  put  you 
to  too  much  trouble,  I  would  like  it  as  a  favor  if  you  could 
give  me  some  account  of  the  family. 

The  postscript  to  this  letter  written  at  so  late  a  date  reads 
a  bit  odd.  It  is  said,  however,  that  Foe  felt  bitterly  to  the  end 
that  Allan  should  have  brought  him  up  and  educated  him 
as  an  only  child,  until  he  had  reached  the  advanced  age  of 
fifteen  years,  and  then  turn  suddenly  against  him  and  make 
him  feel  as  a  menial  instead  of  a  member  of  the  family.  The 


D 

2  ^ 

ac  ac 

w  2 

H  o! 


W  S 

O  W 

Q  « 

5  >< 

« 


tf 


APPENDIX  209 

relatives  of  Allan  in  Scotland  have  stated  that  Allan,  while 
on  his  visit  to  them,  made  the  statement  that  after  providing 
for  his  wife  and  Edgar  it  was  his  intention  to  leave  the  re 
mainder  of  his  estate  to  relatives  in  Scotland.  Poe  in  the 
Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum  sketch  of  the  year  1843  had 
it  stated  that  Allan  made  it  a  practice  in  the  early  days  to 
tell  every  one  that  he  intended  to  make  him  his  heir.  In  a 
letter  to  Poe's  brother  Allan  mentioned  doing  "his  duty 
towards  Edgar,"  but  near  his  death  he  is  said  to  have  had 
doubts  in  the  matter. 

VII 
POE'S  REVISION  OF  OTHERS'  POETRY 

The  F.  W.  Thomas  Recollections  of  E.  A.  Poe  states  that 
the  poetry  written  in  part,  and  revised  by  Poe  for  others 
in  his  lifetime,  if  known  and  collected,  would  make  a  re 
spectable  volume.  Mrs.  Shew  is  the  only  contemporary  of 
Poe's,  who  has  given  any  hint  of  collaboration  with  Poe  in 
the  making  of  any  poetry.  But  Mrs.  Shew  had  no  poetical 
ambitions,  or,  perhaps,  like  Chivers  and  the  others,  she 
might  have  claimed  "The  Bells  "  as  her  own  production. 

The  letters  of  Poe  to  Mrs.  Whitman,  at  least,  show  that 
she  sought  his  criticisms  and  corrections  of  her  poetry.  It 
remains  a  question,  however,  as  to  how  many  of  her  poems 
besides  "To  Arcturus"  Poe  revised.  There  is  also  little  way 
to  find  out  now  what  literary  aid  Poe  rendered  Mrs.  Ellet, 
Mrs.  Osgood,  and  the  balance  of  the  literary  coterie  who 
surrounded  and  flattered  him  in  order  to  obtain  his  favors. 

The  most  persistent  of  the  female  poets  who  followed  Poe 
about  and  endeavored  by  her  arts  to  gain  his  assistance  to 
help  her  mount  the  pinnacles  of  Parnassus  was  Mrs.  Lewis. 
Her  baptismal  name  was  "Sarah  Anna,"  but  she  adopted 


2IO  APPENDIX 

that  of  "  Estelle  "  as  more  sesthetic.  Foe  wrote  an  enigma  to 
her  as  "Sarah  Anna,"  but  afterwards,  to  please  her,  called 
her  "Stella." 

There  remains  a  note  of  Poe's,  and  his  corrections  of  some 
poetry  of  "Stella's,"  which  forms  a  striking  illustration  of 
literary  labors  performed  by  Poe,  into  which  the  general 
reader  has  had  little  insight.  In  returning  Mrs.  Lewis  a 
manuscript  copy  of  her  lines  entitled  "The  Prisoner  of 
Perote,"  Poe  wrote  her  as  follows:  — 

"DEAR  MRS.  LEWIS, 

Upon  the  whole  I  think  this  the  most  spirited  poem  you 
have  written.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  retain  all  the  prose 
prefix.  You  will  observe  that  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of 
making  some  suggestions  in  the  body  of  the  poem  —  the 
force  of  which,  I  think,  would  be  much  increased  by  the  in 
troduction  of  an  occasional  short  line,  for  example:  — 

Hurtled  by  the  blast. 
Sadly  fell  his  eye. 
Heard  her  shrieks  of  wo. 
As  now  they  flock  to  Rome. 
And  to  Palestine. 
Woke  him  from  his  dream. 
And  God  will  guide  thy  bark. 
And  the  sun  will  shine. 
Is  a  throne  to  me. 
Pours  a  Paradise. 
Sheds  its  holy  light. 
Will  I  cling  to  thee. 

These  short  lines  should  be  indented  —  as  for  instance:  — 
So,  to  cheer  thy  desolation, 
Will  I  cling  to  thee." 

The  alterations  shown  in  the  following  poem  are  Poe's  and 
although  evidently  made  hastily  they  make  an  improve 
ment  in  the  verses. 


APPENDIX  211 


THE  PRISONER  OF  PEROTE 

In  the  Prison  of  Perotfe 
Silently  the  Warrior  sate, 

A^S  e^e  kent  sat^y  downward, 

Like  one  stricken  sore  by  Fate; 

Broken  visions  of  his  Glory 

Before  hij  Spirit  paaacd,-    Quick  before  his  spirit  fasted 

Like  clouds  acrooo  tho  Heaven-       Athwart  the  summer 
Hurtled*       >-Dfi%'cn  onwafA  by  the  Blast.  Heaven, 

sullen-  Th&  booming  of  the  Cannon, 

Ana  the  clash  of  blade  and  spear  — 
"Death  —  death,  unto  the  Tyrant!" 

Still  were  ringing  in  his  ear. 

Much  he  sorrowed  for  the  people, 

For  whose  weal  he  fain  would  die— 

On  the  Tablets  of  the  Future, 

Sadly  bent  hie  mental  oyoi  •          fell  his  eye 

There  he  saw  his  weeping  country 

Close  beleaguered' by  the  foe; 

He  saw  her  chained  and  blooding;      faint  and  bleeding 

-He- heard  her  shrieks  of  Wo; 

ward..  From  the  East  and-frem-  the  Westward 

He-  -There- beheld  the  Pilgrims  come 

-To  ponder  o'cg  ho*  Ruina,  To  muse  upon  her  ivied  ruins 

As  now  they  flock  to  Rome; 

Well  he  weighed  the  fate  of  Nations, 
Wflli       AT^e'r  g*ory  and  their  shame, 
Well^      AThe  fleetness  of  all  Power, 
HV/JL       A.The  emptiness  of  Fame; 
ll'f//         /The  wasting  wrecks  of  Empires 

That  chokt  Time's  rapid  stream-,       Choking  Time*t 
Till  Beauty  with  ^il!  Beauty's  gentle  whi3pcf9  impatient  stream 

her  gentle  Woke  him  from  his  dream. — • 

whispers 


NOTES 

AND 
VARIORUM  TEXT 

OF  THE  POEMS 


NOTES  AND  VARIORUM  TEXT 

OF  THE  POEMS 

THE  sources  of  the  text  for  E.  A.  Foe's  poems  are  the  editions  pub» 
b'shed  by  him  in  1827, 1829, 1831,  and  1845;  the  manuscripts  of  poems  in 
Foe's  own  hand;  copy  of  1829  Poems  with  corrections  made  in  Poe's 
hand;  the  magazines  and  newspapers  to  which  he  contributed  poems, 
viz. :  — 

The  Yankee  and  Boston  Literary  Gazette;  The  Philadelphia  Casket ;  Th* 
Baltimore  Saturday  Morning  Visiter ;  Richmond  Southern  Literary  Mes 
senger;  Godey's  Lady's  Book;  Baltimore  American  Museum;  Burton's 
Gentleman's  Magazine;  Graham's  Magazine;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Mu 
seum  ;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Evening  Post ;  The  New  York  Evening  Mirror  ; 
New  York  Broadway  Journal;  New  York  Literary  Emporium;  New  York 
American  Whig  Review;  The  London  Critic;  New  York  Missionary  Me- 
morial;  New  York  Literary  World;  New  York  Home  Journal;  Sartain's 
Union  Magazine  ;  New  York  Union  Magazine;  Boston  Flag  of  Our  Union; 
New  York  Tribune;  Philadelphia  Leaflets  of  Memory;  Richmond  Exam' 
iner;  Richmond  Whig;  Griswold's  1850  poems  and  "Poets  and  Poetry 
of  America,"  1842  and  1855.  The  manuscript  sources  superior  to  the 
texts  are  the  J.  Lorimer  Graham  copy  of  the  1845  poems,  with  correc 
tions  in  Poe's  hand,  and  the  F.  W.  Thomas  manuscript  Recollections 
of  E.  A.  Poe,  with  poems  contributed  to  the  Richmond  Examiner,  cor 
rected  in  proof  in  Poe's  hand  shortly  before  his  death. 

The  editions  of  Poems  issued  by  Poe  were:  — 

1827 

TAMERLANE  /  AND  /  OTHER  POEMS  /  BY  A  BOSTONIAN 
Young  heads  are  giddy,  and  young  hearts  are  warm, 
And  make  mistakes  for  manhood  to  reform.  —  COWPEK. 
Boston./     CALVIN  F.  S.  THOMAS  .  .  .  PRINTER  /  1827 
Collation  :  Title,  p.  i;  verso  blank,  p.  2;  Preface,  pp.  3-4;  TAMER 
LANE,  pp.  5-21;  verso  blank,  p.  22;  half  title,  Fugitive  Pieces,  p.  23; 
Verso  blank,  p.  24;  Fugitive  Pieces,  pp.  25-34;  half  title,  Notes,  p.  35; 


216  NOTES 

verso  blank,  p.  36;  Notes,  pp.  37-40.  Contents:  Tamerlane ;  Fugitive 

Pieces:  To ;  Dreams;  Visit  of  the  Dead;  Evening  Star;  Imitation; 

Communion  with  Nature;  A  wilder'd  being  from  my  birth;  The  happi 
est  day —  the  happiest  hour;  The  Lake;  Author's  Notes  (To Tamerlane). 

The  volume  measures  6.37  by  4.13  inches,  and  was  issued  as  a  pamphlet 
in  yellow  covers.  Only  three  copies  are  known.  One  is  in  the  British 
Museum,  and  the  other  two  are  in  the  library  of  a  New  York  collector. 
Mr.  R.  H.  Shepherd  made  a  reprint  of  the  British  Museum  copy  in  1884, 
with  corrections  of  misprints  in  a  separate  list. 

The  preface  reads  as  follows:  "The  greater  part  of  the  poems  which 
compose  this  little  volume  were  written  in  the  year  1821-2,  when  the 
author  had  not  completed  his  fourteenth  year.  They  were  of  course  not 
intended  for  publication;  why  they  are  now  published  concerns  no  one  but 
himself.  Of  the  smaller  pieces  very  little  need  be  said :  They  perhaps  savor 
too  much  of  egotism;  but  they  were  written  by  one  too  young  to  have 
any  knowledge  of  the  world  but  from  his  own  breast. 

"In  'Tamerlane'  he  has  endeavored  to  expose  the  folly  of  even  risking 
the  best  feelings  of  the  heart  at  the  shrine  of  Ambition.  He  is  conscious 
that  in  this  there  are  many  faults  (besides  that  of  the  general  character  of 
the  poems),  which  he  flatters  himself  he  could,  with  little  trouble,  have 
corrected,  but  unlike  many  of  his  predecessors,  has  been  too  fond  of  his 
early  productions  to  amend  them  in  his  old  age. 

"He  will  not  say  that  he  is  indifferent  as  to  the  success  of  these  Poems 
—  it  might  stimulate  him  to  other  attempts  —  but  he  can  safely  assert 
that  failure  will  not  at  all  influence  him  in  a  resolution  already  adopted. 
This  is  challenging  criticism  —  let  it  be  so.  Nos  haec  novimus  esse  nihil." 

1829 

AL  AARAAF,  /  TAMERLANE,  /  AND  /  MINOR  POEMS  / 
(Rule)  BY  EDGAR  A.  POE.  /  (Rule)  BALTIMORE:  /  HATCH  & 
DUNNING  /  (Rule)  1829. 

Collation:  Title,  p.  i;  verso  (copyright  secured),  p.  2  (in  lower  right 
hand  corner:  Matchett  &  Woods  Printers);  p.  3,  quotation: 
Entiendes,  Fabio,  lo  que  voi  deciendo? 
Toma,  si,  lo  entendio:  —  Mientes,  Fabio. 
p.  4,  blank;  p.  5,  half  title:  AL  AARAAF;  verso,  p.  6: 

What  has  night  to  do  with  sleep?  —  COMUS, 


NOTES  I    217 

p.  7,  Dedication: 

Who  drinks  the  deepest?  —  here  's  to  him.  —  CLEAVELAND. 
p.  8,  blank;  p.  9,  "A  star  was  discovered  by  Tycho  Brahe  which  burst 
forth  in  a  /  moment,  with  a  splendor  surpassing  that  of  Jupiter  —  then 
gradually  /  faded  away  and  became  invisible  to  the  naked  eye."  p.  10, 
blank;  p.  n,  poem,  Science;  p.  12,  blank;  pp.  13-21,  ALAARAAF,  part 
I.;  p.  22,  blank;  p.  23,  half  title,  AL  AARAAF;  verso  blank,  p.  24;  pp. 
25-38,  AL  AARAAF,  part  II.;  p.  39,  half  title,  TAMERLANE;  p.  40: 

ADVERTISEMENT 

This  poem  was  printed  for  publication  in  Boston,  in  the  year  /  1827, 
but  suppressed  through  circumstances  of  a  private  nature. 
p.  41,  Dedication:   TO /JOHN   NEAL  /  THIS   POEM /IS  RE 
SPECTFULLY  DEDICATED.  /  p.  42,  blank ;   pp.  43-54,  TAMER 
LANE;  /  p.  55,  half  title,  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS  ;  p.  56: 
My  nothingness  —  my  wants  — 
My  sins  —  And  my  contrition  —  SOUTHEY  E.  PEESIS.* 
And  some  flowers  —  but  no  bays.  —  MILTON. 

P- 57.  poem,  Romance;  p.  58,  blank;  pp.  59-71,  POEMS,  numbered  i  top. 
Issued  in  boards,  with  tinted  paper  covering,  muslin  backs.  Size  of  leaf 
untrimmed  8.75  by  5.25  inches.  One  copy  in  the  library  of  a  New  York 
collector  has  the  date  1820,  which  some  think  a  printer's  error,  while 
others  are  of  the  opinion  that  Poe  had  that  date  put  in  on  purpose.  This 
was  a  presentation  copy  to  his  cousin  Elizabeth  (Herring).  It  also  has 
his  corrections  in  his  own  hand  made  for  the  1845  edition  of  his  poems. 
Some  copies  have  the  poem  "Science"  on  the  unpaged  leaf.  Some  ten  or 
more  copies  of  the  volume  are  known.  One  is  in  the  New  York  Public 
Library,  another  in  the  Peabody  Institute,  Baltimore,  and  the  others 
mainly  in  private  libraries  —  five  in  New  York  City,  one  in  Chicago, 
one  in  Washington,  and  one  in  Pittsburg. 

1831 

POEMS  /  By  /  Edgar  A.  Poe.  /  (Rule)  Tout  le  Monde  a  Raison. — 
Rochefoucault.  /  (Rule)  Second  Edition  /  (Rule)  New  York:  /  Pub 
lished  by  Elam  Bliss.  /  (Rule)  1831. 

Collation:  p.  i,  half  title,  Poems;  verso  blank,  p.  2;  p.  3,  title;  p.  4, 
imprint;  p.  5,  Dedication,  To  The  U.  S.  /  Corps  Of  Cadets  /  This  vol- 
1  Error  for  SODTHBY'S  PERSIS. 


21 8  NOTES 

ume  /  is  Respectfully  Dedicated;  verso  blank,  p.  6;  p.  7,  Contents; 
verso  blank,  p.  8;  half  title,  "Letter,"  p.  9;  verso  blank,  p.  10;  p.  n, 

Quotation;  verso  blank,  p.  12;  pp.  13-29,  text  of  letter  to  Mr.  ; 

verso  blank,  p.  30;  p. 31,  half  title,  "Introduction";  verso  blank,  p.  32; 
pp.  33-124,  POEMS :  Helen,  Israfel,  The  Doomed  City,  Fairy-land, 
Irene,  A  Paean,  The  Valley  Nis,  Science,  Al  Aaraaf,  Tamerlane.  Size 
of  leaf  untrimmed  6.75  by  3.75  inches.  Issued  in  cloth  binding.  Some 
copies  have  the  word  "The  End"  on  the  last  leaf.  Six  copies  are 
known,  but  there  are  likely  others. 

The  original  form  of  the  1831  letter,1  with  the  Southern  Literary  Met- 
senger  variations,  follows:  — 

It  has  been  said  that  a  good  critique  on  a  poem  may  be  written  by  one 
who  is  no  poet  himself.  This,  according  to  your  idea  and  mine  of  poetry, 
I  feel  to  be  false  —  the  less  poetical  the  critic,  the  less  just  the  critique, 
and  the  converse.  On  this  account,  and  because  there  are  but  few  B— — 's 
in  the  world,  I  would  be  as  much  ashamed  of  the  world's  good  opinion  as 
proud  of  your  own.  Another  than  yourself  might  here  observe,  "  Shake 
speare  is  in  possession  of  the  world's  good  opinion,  and  yet  Shake 
speare  is  the  greatest  of  poets.  It  appears  then  that  the  world  judge  cor 
rectly,  why  should  you  be  ashamed  of  their  favorable  judgment?"  The 
difficulty  lies  in  the  interpretation  of  the  word  "judgment"  or  "opinion." 
The  opinion  is  the  world's,  truly,  but  it  may  be  called  theirs  as  a  man 
would  call  a  book  his,  having  bought  it;  he  did  not  write  the  book,  but  it 
is  his;  they  did  not  originate  the  opinion,  but  it  is  theirs.  A  fool,  for  ex 
ample,  thinks  Shakespeare  a  great  poet  —  yet  the  fool  has  never  read 
Shakespeare.  But  the  fool's  neighbor,  who  is  a  step  higher  on  the  Andes 
of  the  mind,  whose  head  (that  is  to  say,  his  more  exalted  thought)  is  too 
far  above  the  fool  to  be  seen  or  understood,  but  whose  feet  (by  which  I 
mean  his  every-day  actions)  are  sufficiently  near  to  be  discerned,  and  by 
means  of  which  that  superiority  is  ascertained,  which  but  for  them  would 
never  have  been  discovered  —  this  neighbor  asserts  that  Shakespeare  is 
a  great  poet  —  the  fool  believes  him,  and  it  is  henceforward  his  opinion. 
This  neighbor's  own  opinion  has,  in  like  manner,  been  adopted  from  one 

1  Printed,  with  the  following  note  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  of 

Jury,  1836:  "Letter  To  B These  detached  passages  form  part  of  the 

preface  to  a  small  volume  printed  some  years  ago  for  private  circulation.  They 
have  vigor  a»d  much  originality  —  but  of  course  we  shall  not  be  called  upon  to 

endors*  all  the  writer's  opinions. —  ED."        ,  * 


NOTES  219 

above  him,  and  so,  ascendingly,  to  a  few  gifted  individuals  who  kneel 
around  the  summit,  beholding,  face  to  face,  the  master  spirit  who  stands 
upon  the  pinnacle.  *  *  * 

You  are  aware  of  the  great  barrier  in  the  path  of  an  American  writer. 
He  is  read,  if  at  all,  in  preference  to  the  combined  and  established  wit  of 
the  world.  I  say  established;  for  it  is  with  literature  as  with  law  or  em 
pire  —  an  established  name  is  an  estate  in  tenure,  or  a  throne  in  posses 
sion.  Besides,  one  might  suppose  that  books,  like  their  authors,  improve 
by  travel  —  their  having  crossed  the  sea  is,  with  us,  so  great  a  distinction. 
Our  antiquaries  abandon  time  for  distance;  our  very  fops  glance  from 
the  binding  to  the  bottom  of  the  title-page,  where  the  mystic  characters 
which  spell  London,  Paris,  or  Genoa,  are  precisely  so  many  letters  of 
recommendation.  *  * 

I  mentioned  just  now  a  vulgar  error  as  regards  criticism.  I  think  the 
notion  that  no  poet  can  form  a  correct  estimate  of  his  own  writings  is  an 
other.  I  remarked  before,  that  in  proportion  to  the  poetical  talent,  would 
be  the  justice  of  a  critique  upon  poetry.  Therefore,  a  bad  poet  would,  I 
grant,  make  a  false  critique,  and  his  self-love  would  infallibly  bias  his  little 
judgment  in  his  favor;  but  a  poet,  who  is  indeed  a  poet,  could  not,  I  think, 
fail  of  making  a  just  critique.  Whatever  should  be  deducted  on  the  score 
of  self-love,  might  be  replaced  on  account  of  his  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  subject;  in  short,  we  have  more  instances  of  false  criticism  than 
of  just,  where  one's  own  writings  are  the  test,  simply  because  we  have 
more  bad  poets  than  good.  There  are  of  course  many  objections  to  what 
I  say:  Milton  is  a  great  example  of  the  contrary;  but  his  opinion  with  re 
spect  to  the  Paradise  Regained  is  by  no  means  fairly  ascertained.  By 
what  trivial  circumstances  men  are  often  led  to  assert  what  they  do  not 
really  believe!  Perhaps  an  inadvertent  word  has  descended  to  posterity. 
But,  iti  fact,  the  Paradise  Regained  is  little,  if  at  all,  inferior  to  the  Para 
dise  Lost,  and  is  only  supposed  so  to  be,  because  men  do  not  like  epics, 
whatever  they  may  say  to  the  contrary,  and  reading  those  of  Milton  in 
their  natural  order,  are  too  much  wearied  with  the  first  to  derive  any 
pleasure  from  the  second. 

I  dare  say  Milton  preferred  Comus  to  either  —  if  so  —  justly.  *  *  * 

As  I  am  speaking  of  poetry,  it  will  not  be  amiss  to  touch  slightly  upon 
the  most  singular  heresy  in  its  modern  history  —  the  heresy  of  what  is 
called  very  foolishly,  the  Lake  School.  Some  years  ago  I  might  have  been 
induced,  by  an  occasion  like  the  present,  to  attempt  a  formal  refutation 
of  their  doctrine;  at  present  it  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation.  The 


22O  NOTES 

wise  must  bow  to  the  wisdom  of  such  men  as  Coleridge  and  Southey,  but 
being  wise,  have  laughed  at  poetical  theories  so  prosaically  exemplified. 

Aristotle,  with  singular  assurance,  has  declared  poetry  the  most  philo 
sophical  of  all  writings;*  but  it  required  a  Wordsworth  to  pronounce  it 
the  most  metaphysical.  He  seems  to  think  that  the  end  of  poetry  is,  or 
should  be,  instruction  —  yet  it  is  a  truism  that  the  end  of  our  exist 
ence  is  happiness;  if  so,  the  end  of  every  separate  part  of  our  existence 
—  every  thing  connected  with  our  existence  should  be  still  happiness. 
Therefore  the  end  of  instruction  should  be  happiness;  and  happiness  is 
another  name  for  pleasure;  —  therefore  the  end  of  instruction  should  be 
pleasure:  yet  we  see  the  above  mentioned  opinion  implies  precisely  the 
reverse. 

To  proceed:  celeris  paribus,  he  who  pleases,  is  of  more  importance  to 
his  fellow  men  than  he  who  instructs,  since  utility  is  happiness,  and  plea 
sure  is  the  end  already  obtained  which  instruction  is  merely  the  means  of 
obtaining. 

I  see  no  reason,  then,  why  our  metaphysical  poets  should  plume  them 
selves  so  much  on  the  utility  of  their  works,  unless  indeed  they  refer  to 
instruction  with  eternity  in  view;  in  which  case,  sincere  respect  for  their 
piety  would  not  allow  me  to  express  my  contempt  for  their  judgment; 
contempt  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  conceal,  since  their  writings  are 
professedly  to  be  understood  by  the  few,  and  it  is  the  many  who  stand  in 
need  of  salvation.  In  such  case  I  should  no  doubt  be  tempted  to  think 
of  the  devil  in  "Melmoth,"  who  labors  indefatigably  through  three 
octavo  volumes  to  accomplish  the  destruction  of  one  or  two  souls,  while 
any  common  devil  would  have  demolished  one  or  two  thousand.  *  *  * 

Against  the  subtleties  which  would  make  poetry  a  study  —  not  a  pas 
sion  —  it  becomes  the  metaphysician  to  reason  —  but  the  poet  to  pro 
test.  Yet  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  are  men  in  years;  the  one  im 
bued  in  contemplation  from  his  childhood,  the  other  a  giant  in  intellect 
and  learning.  The  diffidence,  then,  with  which  I  venture  to  dispute  their 
authority,  would  be  overwhelming,  did  I  not  feel,  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart,  that  learning  has  little  to  do  with  the  imagination  —  intellect 
with  the  passions  —  or  age  with  poetry.  *  *  * 

"Trifles,  like  straws,  upon  the  surface  flow, 
He  who  would  search  for  pearls  must  dive  below," 

are  lines  which  have  done  much  mischief.  As  regards  the  greater  truths, 

men  of  tener  err  by  seeking  them  at  the  bottom  than  at  the  top;  the  depth 

*  Spoudaiotaton  kai  philosopbikotaton  genos.    S.  L.  M.  text. 


NOTES  221 

lies  in  the  huge  abysses  where  wisdom  is  sought  —  not  in  the  palpable 
places  where  she  is  found.  The  ancients  were  not  always  right  in  hiding 
the  goddess  in  a  well:  witness  the  light  which  Bacon  has  thrown  upon 
philosophy;  witness  the  principles  of  our  divine  faith  —  that  moral 
mechanism  by  which  the  simplicity  of  a  child  may  overbalance  the  wis 
dom  of  a  man.  (*Poetry  above  all  things  is  a  beautiful  painting  whose 
tints  to  minute  inspection  are  confusion  worse  confounded,  but  start 
boldly  out  to  the  cursory  glance  of  the  connoisseur.) 

We  see  an  instance  of  Coleridge's  liability  to  err,  in  his  "Biographia 
Literaria  "  —  professedly  his  literary  life  and  opinions,  but,  in  fact,  a 
treatise  de  omni  scibili  et  quibusdam  aliis.  He  goes  wrong  by  reason  of  his 
very  profundity,  and  of  his  error  we  have  a  natural  type  in  the  contem 
plation  of  a  star.  He  who  regards  it  directly  and  intensely  sees,  it  is  true, 
the  star,  but  it  is  the  star  without  a  ray  —  while  he  who  surveys  it  less 
inquisitively  is  conscious  of  all  for  which  the  star  is  useful  to  us  below  — 
its  brilliancy  and  its  beauty.  *  *  * 

As  to  Wordsworth,  I  have  no  faith  in  him.  That  he  had,  in  youth,  the 
feelings  of  a  poet  I  believe  —  for  there  are  glimpses  of  extreme  delicacy 
in  his  writings  —  (and  delicacy  is  the  poet's  own  kingdom  —  his  El  Do 
rado)  —  but  they  have  the  appearance  of  a  better  day  recollected ;  and 
glimpses,  at  best,  are  little  evidence  of  present  poetic  fire  —  we  know 
that  a  few  straggling  flowers  spring  up  daily  in  the  crevices  of  the  (tava- 
lanche) . 

He  was  to  blame  in  wearing  away  his  youth  in  contemplation  with  the 
end  of  poetizing  in  his  manhood.  With  the  increase  of  his  judgment  the 
light  which  should  make  it  apparent  has  faded  away.  His  judgment  con 
sequently  is  too  correct.  This  may  not  be  understood,  —  but  the  old 
Goths  of  Germany  would  have  understood  it,  who  used  to  debate  mat 
ters  of  importance  to  their  State  twice,  once  when  drunk,  and  once  when 
sober  —  sober  that  they  might  not  be  deficient  in  formality  —  drunk  lest 
they  should  be  destitute  of  vigor. 

The  long  wordy  discussions  by  which  he  tries  to  reason  us  into  admira 
tion  of  his  poetry,  speak  very  little  in  his  favor:  they  are  full  of  such  as 
sertions  as  this  —  (I  have  opened  one  of  his  volumes  at  random)  "Of 
genius  the  only  proof  is  the  act  of  doing  well  what  is  worthy  to  be  done, 
and  what  was  never  done  before"  —  indeed  1  then  it  follows  that  in 
doing  what  is  wwworthy  to  be  done,  or  what  has  been  done  before,  n» 
*  Lines  in  parenthesis  erased  from  S.  L.  M.  text. 
t  Glacier  in  S.  L.  M.  text. 


222  NOTES 

genius  can  be  evinced;  yet  the  picking  of  pockets  is  an  unworthy  act, 
pockets  have  been  picked  time  immemorial,  and  Harrington,  the  pick 
pocket,  in  point  of  genius,  would  have  thought  hard  of  a  comparison 
with  William  Wordsworth,  the  poet. 

Again  —  in  estimating  the  merit  of  certain  poems,  whether  they  be 
Ossian'sorM'Pherson's,  can  surely  be  of  little  consequence,  yet,  in  order 
to  prove  their  worthlessness,  Mr.  W.  has  expended  many  pages  in  the 
controversy.  Tanttzne  animis  ?  Can  great  minds  descend  to  such  ab 
surdity?  But  worse  still:  that  he  may  bear  down  every  argument  in 
favor  of  these  poems,  he  triumphantly  drags  forward  a  passage,  in  his 
abomination  of  which  he  expects  the  reader  to  sympathize.  It  is  the  be 
ginning  of  the  epic  poem  *  "  Temora."  "  The  blue  waves  of  Ullin  roll  in 
light;  the  green  hills  are  covered  with  day;  trees  shake  their  dusky  heads 
in  the  breeze."  And  this  —  this  gorgeous,  yet  simple  imagery,  where  all 
is  alive  and  panting  with  immortality  —  this,  William  Wordsworth,  the 
author  of  "Peter  Bell,"  has  selected  for  his  contempt.  We  shall  see  what 
better  he.  in  his  own  person,  has  to  offer.    Imprimis: 
"  And  now  she  's  at  the  pony's  head, 
And  now  she  "s  at  the  pony's  tail, 
On  that  side  now,  and  now  on  this, 
And  almost  stifled  her  with  bliss  — 
A  few  sad  tears  does  Betty  shed, 
She  pats  the  pony  where  or  when 
She  knows  not:  happy  Betty  Foy! 
O,  Johnny!  never  mind  the  Doctor!" 
Secondly: 

"The  dew  was  falling  fast,  the  —  stars  began  to  blink, 

I  heard  a  voice;  it  said drink,  pretty  creature,  drink; 

And,  looking  o'er  the  hedge,  be  —  fore  me  I  espied 

A  snow-white  mountain  lamb,  with  a  —  maiden  at  its  side. 

No  other  sheep  were  near,  the  lamb  was  all  alone, 

And  by  a  slender  cord  was  —  tether'd  to  a  stone." 

Now,  we  have  no  doubt  this  is  all  true;  we  will  believe  it,  indeed,  we 
will,  Mr.  W.  Is  it  sympathy  for  the  sheep  you  wish  to  excite  ?  I  love 
a  sheep  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart. 

But  there  are  occasions,  dear  B ,  there  are  occasions  when  even 

Wordsworth  is  reasonable.  Even  Stamboul,  it  is  said,  shall  have  an  end 
*  No  italics  in  S.  L.  M.  text. 


NOTES  223 

and  the  most  unlucky  blunders  must  come  to  a  conclusion.  Here  is  an 
extract  from  his  preface  — 

"Those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  the  phraseology  of  modern  writ 
ers,  if  they  persist  in  reading  this  book  to  a  conclusion  (impossible!)  will, 
no  doubt,  have  to  struggle  with  feelings  of  awkwardness;  (ha!  ha!  hal) 
they  will  look  round  for  poetry  (ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!)  and  will  be  induced  to 
inquire  by  what  species  of  courtesy  these  attempts  have  been  permitted 
to  assume  that  title."  Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Yet  let  not  Mr.  W.  despair;  he  has  given  immortality  to  a  wagon,  and 
the  bee  Sophocles  has  transmitted  to  eternity  a  sore  toe,  and  dignified  a 
tragedy  with  a  chorus  of  turkeys.  *  *  * 

Of  Coleridge  I  cannot  speak  but  with  reverence.  His  towering  intel 
lect!  his  gigantic  power! l  (He  is  one  more  evidence  of  the  fact)  (To 
use  an  author  quoted  by  himself,  "  J'ai  trouve1  souvent)  *  que  la  plupart 
des  sectes  ont  raison  dans  une  bonne  partie  de  ce  qu'elles  avancent, 
raais  non  pas  en  ce  qu'elles  nient,"  (and  to  employ  his  own  language,)' 
he  has  imprisoned  his  own  conceptions  by  the  barrier  he  has  erected 
against  those  of  others.  It  is  lamentable  to  think  that  such  a  mind 
should  be  buried  in  metaphysics,  and,  like  the  Nyctanthes,  waste  its 
perfume  upon  the  night  alone.  In  reading  [that  man's4]  poetry,  I  trem 
ble,  like  one  who  stands  upon  a  volcano,  conscious,  from  the  very  dark 
ness  bursting  from  the  crater,  of  the  fire  and  the  light  that  are  weltering 
below. 

What  is  Poetry?  —  Poetry!  that  Proteus-like  idea,  with  as  many  ap 
pellations  as  the  nine-titled  Corcyra!  Give  me,  I  demanded  of  a  scholar 
some  time  ago,  give  me  a  definition  of  poetry.  "Tres-volontiers,"  and  he 
proceeded  to  his  library,  brought  me  a  Dr.  Johnson,  and  overwhelmed 
me  with  a  definition.  Shade  of  the  immortal  Shakespeare!  I  imagine  to 
myself  the  scowl  of  your  spiritual  eye  upon  the  profanity  of  that  scurril 
ous  Ursa  Major.  Think  of  poetry,  dear  B ,  think  of  poetry,  and  then 

think  of  —  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson!  Think  of  all  that  is  airy  and  fairy-like, 
and  then  of  all  that  is  hideous  and  unwieldy;  think  of  his  huge  bulk,  the 
Elephant!  and  then  —  and  then  think  of  the  Tempest  —  the  Midsum 
mer  Night's  Dream  —  Prospero  —  Oberon  —  and  Titania!  *  *  • 

A  poem,  in  my  opinion,  is  opposed  to  a  work  of  science  by  having,  for 
its  immediate  object,  pleasure,  not  truth;  to  romance,  by  having  for  its 

>  S.  L.  M.  text.  *  Erased  from  S.  L.  M.  text. 

»  Erased  from  S.  L.  M.  text.  «  "  his  "  in  S.  L.  M.  text. 


224  NOTES 

object  an  indefinite  instead  of  a  definite  pleasure,  being  a  poem  only  so  far 
as  this  object  is  attained;  romance  presenting  perceptible  images  with 
definite,  poetry  with  twdefinite  sensations,  to  which  end  music  is  an  essen 
tial,  since  the  comprehension  of  sweet  sound  is  our  most  indefinite  concep 
tion.  Music,  when  combined  with  a  pleasurable  idea,  is  poetry;  music 
without  the  idea  is  simply  music;  the  idea  without  the  music  is  prose 
from  its  very  definitiveness. 

What  was  meant  by  the  invective  against  him  who  had  no  music  in  his 
soul?  *  *  * 

To  sum  up  this  long  rigmarole,  I  have,  dear  B  -  ,  what  you  no  doubt 
perceive,  for  the  metaphysical  poets,  as  poets,  the  most  sovereign  con 
tempt.  That  they  have  followers  proves  nothing  — 

No  Indian  prince  has  to  his  palace 

More  followers  than  a  thief  to  the  gallows. 


The  Raven  /  And  /  Other  Poems.  /By  /Edgar  A.  Poe.  /New 
York:  /Wiley  &  Putnam,  161  Broadway.  /i84S. 

Collation:  half-title.  Wiley  And  Putnam's/  Library  Of/  AMERI 
CAN  BOOKS.  /  The  Raven  and  Other  Poems.  Title,  p.  I  ;  with  copy 
right  and  imprint  on  verso,  p.  II;  dedication,  p.  Ill;  verso  blank,  p.  IV; 
Preface,  p.  V;  verso,  Contents,  p.  VI.  The  Raven  and  Other  Poems, 
pp.  1-51  ;  blank  verso,  p.  52  ;  half-title,  Poems  Written  In  Youth,  p. 
53;  verso  blank,  p.  54;  Poems  Written  In  Youth,  pp  55-91.  Issued  in 
paper  covers.  Size  7.50  by  5.25  inches.  The  same  edition  was  issued  by 
the  same  firm  in  London  with  the  imprint  1846. 

THE  RAVEN 

The  American  Whig  Review,  February,  1845;  the  Evening  Mirror, 
January  29,  1845;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  March,  1845;  London 
Critic,  June,  1845;  1845;  J.  Lorimer  Graham  copy  of  1845  poems;  Lit 
erary  Emporium,  1845;  Richmond  Examiner,  September  25,  1849. 

Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 
Variations  from  the  text  :  — 
II.  3.  sought:  tried,  all  others  except  1845. 

6.  here  :  no  italics  except  J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 
in.  6.  This:  That.    L.  E.  ;  S.  L.  M. 


NOTES  225 

V.  3.  stillness:  darkness,  all  others  except  J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

VI.  I.  Back:  Then,  all  others  except  1845  and  J.  Lorimer  Graham, 

1845- 

2.  again  I  heard:  I  heard  again,  all  others  except  J.  Lorimer  Gra 
ham,  1845. 

VII.  3.  minute:  instant,  all  others  except  J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

IX.  3.  living  human:  sublunary.  A.  W.  R. 

X.  6.  Then  the  bird  said:  Quoth  the  raven.  A.  W.  R.;  E.  M.;  S.  L.  M. 

XI.  i.  Startled:  wondering.  A.  W.  R.;  S.  L.  M. 

4.  songs:  song.  C. 

4-6.  till .  .  .  nevermore:  so  when  Hope  he  would  adjure  Stem  De 
spair  returned,  instead  of  the  sweet  Hope  he  dared  adjure. 

That  sad  answer,  "Nevermore."  A.  W.  R.;  E.  M.;  S.  L.  M. 

5.  That:  the,  all  others  except  1845,  and  J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

6.  Of  "Never  —  Nevermore":  of  "Nevermore"  all  others  except 
1845  and  J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

XII.  i.  My  sad  fancy:  all  my  sad  soul,  all  others;  my  fancy;  J.  Lori 
mer  Graham,  1845. 

XIII.  i.  This:  Thus.  C. 

XIV.  2.  seraphim  whose:  angels  whose  faint,  all  others  except  J. 
Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

5.  Quaff,  oh:  Let  me.  A.  W.  R.;  S.  L.  M. 
XVIII.  i.  still:  No  italics  except  J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

3.  demon's:  demon,  all  others  except  1845. 

Notes:  In  the  Broadway  Journal,  May  24,  1845,  a  variant  reading 
of  the  poem  is  given  as  follows:  — 

"While  I  pondered  nearly  napping 
Suddenly  there  came  a  rapping, 
As  of  some  one  gently  tapping, 
Tapping  at  my  chamber  door." 

The  Shea  manuscript  recorded  elsewhere  also  gives  variant  readings, 
and  in  the  quotations  from  the  poem  in  Poe's  "  Philosophy  of  Composi 
tion,"  two  verbal  variations  are  found  —  VII.  3.  minute  for  moment  and 
X.  i.  that  tor  the. 

The  above  readings  of  "  The  Raven  "  show  the  poem  in  eight  states. 
First  as  sent  to  the  American  Whig  Review,  February,  1845;  second  as 
revised  in  the  Evening  Mirror,  January  20, 1845;  third  as  revised  in  the 
Southern  Literary  Messenger,  March,  1845;  fourth  as  revised  in  the  Lou- 


226  NOTES 

don  Critic,  June,  1845;  fifth  as  revised  in  the  edition  of  the  1845  poems; 
sixth  as  revised  in  the  J.  Lorimer  Graham  copy  of  the  1845  poems  in 
Poe's  own  hand;  seventh  as  revised  in  the  Literary  Emporium,  1845 ; 
eighth  and  finally  in  the  Richmond  Examiner,  September  25,  1849. 

Many  theories  as  to  the  composition  of  "The  Raven"  have  been 
published.  Dr.  William  Elliot  Griffis,  in  the  Home  Journal,  November  5, 
1884,  stated  that  Poe  mentioned  "The  Raven"  and  showed  a  draft  of  the 
poem  to  a  contributor  to  the  New  York  Mirror,  in  the  summer  of  1842, 
at  the  Barhyte  trout  Ponds,  Saratoga  Springs,  New  York. 

Mr.  Rosenback  in  the  American,  February  26, 1887,  claimed  that  he 
read  "The  Raven"  long  before  it  was  published,  and  was  in  George  R. 
Graham's  office,  when  the  poem  was  offered  there.  Poe  said  that  his  wife 
and  Mrs.  Clemm  were  starving,  and  that  he  was  in  pressing  need  of  funds. 
Fifteen  dollars  was  contributed  to  Poe  as  charity,  but  the  poem  was  not 
accepted.  This  date  was  about  the  winter  of  1843-44. 

F.  G.  Fairfield  has  an  account  in  Scribner's  Magazine,  October,  1875, 
that  the  poem  was  written  at  the  Fordham  cottage,  1844-45;  also  that 
it  was  a  sort  of  joint  stock  affair,  the  stanzas  being  produced  at  intervals 
by  Colonel  Du  Solle,  and  others. 

Poe  did  not  move  to  Fordham  until  the  spring  of  1846. 

Colonel  J.  A.  Joyce  attributed  the  poem  to  "The  Parrot,"  published 
in  the  Milan  Art  Journal,  for  1809,  by  Leo  Penzoni,  but  failed  to  give 
further  authenticated  data. 

The  generally  accepted  theory  is  that  given  by  Judge  George  Shea, 
formerly  of  the  Marine  Court  of  New  York.  Poe  wrote  Shea's  father  the 
following  letter  without  date:  — 

"  DEAR  SHEA,  —  Lest  I  should  have  made  some  mistake  in  the  hurry  I 
transcribe  the  whole  alteration.    Instead  of  the  whole  stanza  commenc 
ing  'Wondering  at  the  stillness  broken  &c.'  substitute  this: 
'  Startled  at  the  stillness  broken  by  reply  so  aptly  spoken, 
"Doubtless,"  said  I,  "what  it  utters  is  its  only  stock  and  store 
Caught  from  some  unhappy  master  whom  unmerciful  Disaster 
Followed  fast  and  followed  faster  till  his  songs  one  burden  bore  — 
Till  the  dirgss  of  his  Hope  the  melancholy  burden  bore, 
Nevermore  —  Ah  Nevermore." ' 

"At  the  close  of  the  stanza  preceding  this,  instead  of  Quoth  the  ra 
ven  Nevermore,  substitute  'Then  the  bird  said  "Nevermore."  '  —  Truly 
yours.  POE." 


NOTES  227 

This  is  written  on  a  glazed  paper  without  lines,  and  on  the  back  "  J. 
Augustus  Shea  Esq.  —  to  be  delivered  as  soon  as  he  comes  in."  The 
manuscript  is  now  in  the  library  of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  Esq.,  of  New 
York  City.  Judge  Shea  stated  that  his  father  and  Poe  were  cadets  to 
gether  at  West  Point  and  dose  associates;  that  in  later  life  they  were 
often  together,  and  that  Poe  consulted  his  father  about  the  publication 
of  his  poems.  In  this  way  he  committed  to  Shea  the  publication  anony 
mously  of  "The  Raven "  which  appeared  in  the  Whig  Review. 

The  circumstantial  evidences,  however,  do  not  fully  accord  with  this 
theory.  Poe  was  well  acquainted  with  the  editor  of  the  Whig  Review  who 
alluded  to  the  poem  as  from  a  correspondent.  No  good  reason  appears 
for  Poe  sending  the  poem  by  Shea.  It  is  in  evidence  that  Poe  was  a  cor 
respondent  of  the  journal,  but  not  Shea.  The  lines  sent  to  Shea  did  not 
appear  in  the  Whig  Review.  Some  of  the  alterations  sent  Shea  do  not 
appear  to  have  ever  been  published  by  Poe.  Shea  was  known  to  have 
London  literary  correspondents,  and  the  text  sent  him  may  have  had  some 
reference  to  "The  Raven"  sent  by  Poe  to  the  London  Critic  in  June, 
1845.  In  the  Broadway  Journal  of  August  23, 1845,  Poe  made  the  follow 
ing  notice  of  Shea's  death:  "We  note  with  regret  the  death  of  James  Au 
gustus  Shea,  Esq.,  a  native  of  Ireland,  for  many  years  a  citizen  of  the 
United  States,  and  a  resident  of  this  city.  He  died  on  Friday  morning, 
the  i?th  inst.,  at  the  early  age  of  42.  As  a  poet  his  reputation  was  high  — 
but  by  no  means  as  high  as  his  deserts.  His  'Ocean'  is  really  one  of  the 
most  spirited  lyrics  ever  published.  Its  rhythm  strikingly  resembles 
'The  Bridge  of  Sighs.'" 

F.  W.  Thomas's  Recollections  of  E.  A.  Poe  states  that  Poe  informed 
him  that  "The  Raven"  was  written  in  one  day;  that  in  having  it  appear 
anonymously  he  had  merely  followed  a  whim  like  Coleridge,  who  pub 
lished  his  "Raven"  in  the  same  way.  Thomas  further  stated  that  Poe 
was  constantly  urged  by  himself  and  others  to  revise  the  lines  in  the  poem 
referring  to  the  "shadow  on  the  floor"  and  "seraphin  whose  foot-falls 
tinkled  on  the  tufted  floor."  To  criticisms  of  the  former  he  claimed  a  con 
ception  of  the  bracket  candelabrum  affixed  high  up  against  the  wall,  while 
he  argued  for  the  latter  that  his  idea  was  good  and  came  from  Isaiah 
iii.  16  :  "  The  daughters  of  Zion  making  a  tinkling  with  their  feet." 

For  Poe's  commentary  on  "The  Raven,"  see  his  "Philosophy  of  Com 
position."  The  text  of  "The  Raven  "given  in  editions  of  Poe's  poems  since 
Griswold's  time  as  revised  by  Poe  for  the  Broadway  Journal,  February  8, 
1845,  is  an  error.  Poe  at  that  time  was  employed  on  the  Mirror,  and 


228  NOTES 

in  a  letter  to  Thomas  dated  May  4, 1845,  said:  "I  send  you  an  early 
number  of  the  Broadway  Journal,  containing  my  'Raven.'  It  was  cop 
ied  by  Briggs,  my  associate,  before  I  joined  the  paper.  'The  Raven'  had 
a  great 'run,' Thomas  —  but  I  wrote  it  for  the  express  purpose  of  run 
ning —  just  as  I  did  the  'Gold  Bug,'  you  know.  The  bird  beat  the  bug 
though,  all  hollow."  The  supposition  also  advanced  that  the  Mirror  text 
of  the  poem  followed  that  of  the  Whig  Review  is  also  an  error.  The  Mirror 
text,  as  will  be  seen  here,  was  considerably  revised  by  Poe. 

The  Thomas  Recollections  state  that  Poe  made  up  the  Literary  Em 
porium  volume,  which  was  further  confirmed  by  printers  who  worked  on 
the  book.  Poe  himself  said  about  this  period  that  he  would  devote  his 
time, "  getting  out  books."  The  poem  in  that  volume  is  in  all  probabilities 
the  text  of  "The  Raven,"  seen  in  proof  with  Poe  while  on  the  Broadway 
Journal  by  the  office  boy  Alexander  T.  Crane,  whose  recollections  have 
been  published.  Thomas  also  states  that  Poe  made  repeated  efforts  to 
have  his  poems  appear  in  London  during  the  year  1845.  He  did  succeed 
in  having  some  notices  of  his  journal  and  "The  Raven"  appear  in  the 
London  Critic. 


THE  RAVEN.    BY  — QTJARLES 

American  Whig  Review,  February,  1845:  The  following  lines  from  a 
correspondent  —  besides  the  deep  quaint  strain  of  the  sentiment,  and  the 
Curious  introduction  of  some  ludicrous  touches  amidst  the  serious  and  im 
pressive,  as  was  doubtless  intended  by  the  author  —  appear  to  us  one  of 
the  most  felicitous  specimens  of  unique  rhyming  which  has  for  some  time 
met  our  eye.  The  resources  of  English  rhythm  for  varieties  of  melody, 
measure,  and  sound,  producing  corresponding  diversities  of  effect,  have 
been  thoroughly  studied,  much  more  perceived,  by  very  few  poets  in  the 
language.  While  the  classic  tongues,  especially  the  Greek,  possess,  by 
power  of  accent,  several  advantages  for  versification  over  our  own,  chiefly 
through  greater  abundance  of  spondaic  feet,  we  have  other  and  very  great 
advantages  of  sound  by  the  modern  usage  of  rhyme.  Alliteration  is  nearly 
the  only  effect  of  that  kind  which  the  ancients  had  in  common  with  us. 
It  will  be  seen  that  much  of  the  melody  of  "The  Raven"  arises  from  allit 
eration,  and  the  studious  use  of  similar  sounds  in  unusual  places.  In  re 
gard  to  its  measure,  it  may  be  noted  that,  if  all  the  verses  were  like  the 
second,  they  might  properly  be  placed  merely  in  short  lines,  producing  a 
not  uncommon  form;  but  the  presence  in  all  the  others  of  one  line — 


NOTES  229 

mostly  the  second  in  the  verse  —  which  flows  continuously,  with  only  an 
aspirate  pause  in  the  middle,  like  that  before  the  short  line  in  the  Sapphic 
Adonic,  while  the  fifth  has  at  the  middle  pause  no  similarity  of  sound  with 
any  part  beside,  gives  the  versification  an  entirely  different  effect.  We 
could  wish  the  capacities  of  our  noble  language,  in  prosody,  were  better 
understood.  —  ED.  AM.  REV. 

Evening  Mirror,  January  29,  1845:  We  are  permitted  to  copy  (in 
advamce  of  publication)  from  the  second  number  of  The  American  Review, 
the  following  remarkable  poem  by  Edgar  Poe.  In  our  opinion,  it  is  the 
most  effective  single  example  of  "  fugitive  poetry  "  ever  published  in  this 
country;  and  unsurpassed  in  English  poetry  for  subtile  conception,  mas 
terly  ingenuity  of  versification,  and  consistent  sustaining  of  imaginative 
lift  and  "pokerishness."  It  is  one  of  those  "dainties  bred  in  a  book," 
which  we  feed  on.  It  will  stick  to  the  memory  of  everybody  who  reads  it. 

Southern  Literary  Messenger,  March,  1845:  Mr.  Brooks,  editor  of  the 
New  York  Expressways:  "There  is  a  poem  in  this  book  (The  American 
Whig  Review)  which  far  surpasses  anything  that  has  been  done  even  by 
the  best  poets  of  the  age:  —  indeed  there  are  none  of  them  who  could  pre 
tend  to  enter  into  competition  with  it,  except,  perhaps,  Alfred  Tennyson; 
and  he  only  to  be  excelled  out  of  measure.  Nothing  can  be  conceived 
more  effective  than  the  settled  melancholy  of  the  poet  bordering  upon 
sullen  despair  in  the  Raven  settling  over  the  poet's  door,  to  depart  thence 
'  Nevermore.'  In  power  and  originality  of  versification  the  whole  is  no 
less  remarkable  than  it  is,  psychologically,  a  wonder." 

Richmond  Examiner,  September  25,  1849:  Mr.  Edgar  A.  Poe  lec 
tured  again  last  night  on  the  "Poetic  Principle"  and  concluded  his  lec 
ture  as  before  with  his  now  celebrated  poem  of  "The  Raven."  As  the  at 
tention  of  many  in  this  city  is  now  directed  to  this  singular  performance, 
and  as  Mr.  Poe's  poems  from  which  only  it  is  to  be  obtained  in  the  book 
stores,  have  been  long  out  of  print,  we  furnish  our  readers,  to-day,  with 
the  only  correct  copy  ever  published  —  which  we  are  enabled  to  do  by 
the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Poe  himself.  "The  Raven  "  has  taken  rank  over  the 
whole  world  of  literature,  as  the  very  first  poem  as  yet  produced  on  the 
American  continent.  There  is  indeed  but  one  other,  the  "Humble  Bee" 
of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  which  can  be  ranked  near  it.  The  latter  is  su 
perior  to  it  as  a  work  of  construction  and  design  while  the  former  is  supe 
rior  to  the  latter  as  a  work  of  pure  art.  They  hold  the  same  relation,  the 
one  to  the  other,  that  a  masterpiece  of  painting  holds  to  a  splendid  piece 
of  Mosaic.  But  while  this  poem  maintains  a  rank  so  high  among  all  per* 


23O  NOTES 

sons  of  catholic  and  general  cultivated  taste,  we  can  conceive  the  wrath 
of  many  who  will  read  it  for  the  first  time  in  the  columns  of  this  news 
paper.  Those  who  have  formed  their  taste  in  the  Pope  and  Dryden  school, 
whose  earliest  poetical  acquaintance  is  Milton,  and  whose  latest  Hamlet 
and  Cowper  —  with  a  small  sprinkling  of  Moore  and  Byron  —  will  not 
be  apt  to  relish  on  first  sight  a  poem  tinged  so  deeply  with  the  dyes  of  the 
Nineteenth  Century.  The  poem  will  make  an  impression  on  them  which 
they  will  not  be  able  to  explain,  —  but  that  will  irritate  them,  —  criti 
cism  and  explanation  are  useless  with  such.  Criticism  cannot  reason  peo 
ple  into  an  attachment.  In  spite  of  our  plans,  such  will  talk  of  the  gaudi- 
ness  of  Keats  and  craziness  of  Shelley,  until  they  see  deep  enough  into 
their  claims  to  forget  or  be  ashamed  to  talk  so.  Such  will  angrily  pro 
nounce  "  The  Raven  "  flat  nonsense.  Another  class  will  be  disgusted  there 
with  because  they  can  see  no  purpose,  no  allegory,  no  meaning  as  they 
express  it  in  the  poem.  These  people  —  and  they  constitute  the  majority 
of  our  practical  race  —  are  possessed  with  a  false  theory.  They  hold  that 
every  poem  and  poet  should  have  some  moral  notion  or  other,  which  it 
is  his  "mission"  to  expound.  That  theory  is  all  false.  To  build  theories, 
principles,  religions,  etc.,  is  the  business  of  the  argumentative,  not  of  the 
poetic  faculty.  The  business  of  poetry  is  to  minister  to  the  sense  of  the 
beautiful  in  human  minds.  —  That  sense  is  a  simple  element  in  our  na 
ture —  simple,  not  compound;  and  therefore  the  art  which  ministers  to  it 
may  safely  be  said  to  have  an  ultimate  end  in  so  ministering.  This  "The 
Raven"  does  in  an  eminent  degree.  It  has  no  allegory  in  it,  no  purpose 
—  or  a  very  slight  one  —  but  it  is  a  "thing  of  beauty"  and  will  be  a  "joy 
forever"  for  that  and  no  further  reason.  In  the  last  stanza  is  an  image 
of  settled  despair  and  despondency,  which  throws  a  gleam  of  meaning  and 
allegory  over  the  entire  poem  —  making  it  all  a  personification  of  that  pas 
sion  —  but  that  stanza  is  evidently  an  afterthought,  and  unconnected 
with  the  original  poem.  "The  Raven "  itself  is  a  mere  narrative  of  simple 
events.  A  bird  which  has  been  taught  to  speak  by  some  former  master 
is  lost  in  a  stormy  night,  is  attracted  by  the  light  of  a  student's  window, 
flies  to  it  and  flutters  against  it.  Then  against  the  door.  The  student 
fancies  it  a  visitor,  opens  the  door  and  the  chance  word  uttered  by  the 
bird  suggests  to  him  memories  and  fancies  connected  with  his  own  sit 
uation  and  his  dead  sweetheart  or  wife.  Such  is  the  poem.  The  last 
stanza  is  an  afterthought.  The  worth  of  "The  Raven"  is  not  in  any 
"moral,"  nor  is  its  charm  in  the  construction  of  its  story.  Its  great  and 
wonderful  merits  consist  in  the  strange,  beautiful,  and  fantastic  imagery 


NOTES  231 

and  color  with  which  the  simple  subject  is  clothed,  the  grave  and  su 
pernatural  tone  with  which  it  rolls  on  the  ear,  the  extraordinary  vividness 
of  the  word-painting,  and  the  powerful  but  altogether  indefinable  appeal 
which  is  made  throughout  to  the  organs  of  ideality  and  marvellousness. 
Added  to  these  is  a  versification  indescribably  sweet  and  wonderfully 
difficult  —  winding  and  convoluted  about  like  the  mazes  of  some  com 
plicated  overtures  of  Beethoven.  To  all  who  have  a  strong  perception 
of  tune  there  is  a  music  in  it  which  haunts  the  ear  long  after  reading. 
These  are  great  merits,  and  "The  Raven"  is  a  gem  of  art.  It  is  stamped 
with  the  image  of  true  genius  —  and  genius  in  its  happiest  hour.  It  is 
one  of  those  things  an  author  never  does  but  once. 

NOTE.  —  It  is  known  that  Poe  discussed  the  merits  of  "  The  Raven  "  with  John 
M.  Daniel,  the  author  of  the  above,  and  some  portions  may  have  been  inspired 
by  him.  This  notice  of  the  poem  was  found  among  Foe's  clippings  after  his 
death,  and  is  now  among  the  "  Griswold  Papers." 

THE  VALLEY  OF  UNREST 

American  Whig  Review,  April,  1845;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  II.  9  ; 
"The  Valley  Nis,"  1831;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  February,  1836. 

Text,  1845. 
Variations  from  the  text :  — 

18.  rustle  :  rustles.    A.  W.  R. 

19.  Uneasily :  Unceasingly.    A.  W.  R. ;  B.  J, 
After  27  insert:  — 

They  wave;  they  weep;  and  the  tears  as  they  well 

From  the  depth  of  each  pallid  lily-bell, 

Give  a  trickle  and  a  tinkle  and  a  knell.    A.  W.  R. 

The  earliest  (1831)  version  runs  as  follows:  The  Southern  Literary 
Messenger  reading  is  noted  below:  — 

THE    VALLEY  NIS 

Far  away  —  far  away  — 
Far  away  —  as  far  at  least 
Lies  that  valley  as  the  day 
Down  within  the  golden  east  — 
All  things  lovely  —  are  not  they 
Far  away  —  far  away? 


232  NOTES 


It  is  called  the  valley  Nis. 

And  a  Syriac  tale  there  is 

Thereabout  which  Time  hath  said 

Shall  not  be  interpreted. 

Something  about  Satan's  dart  — 

Something  about  angel  wings  — 

Much  about  a  broken  heart  — 

All  about  unhappy  things: 

But  "the  valley  Nis"  at  best 

Means  "the  valley  of  unrest." 

Once  it  srail'd  a  silent  dell 

Where  the  people  did  not  dwell, 

Having  gone  unto  the  wars  — 

And  the  sly,  mysterious  stars, 

With  a  visage  full  of  meaning, 

O'er  the  unguarded  flowers  were  leaning: 

Or  the  sun  ray  dripp'd  all  red 

Thro'  the  tulips  overhead, 

Then  grew  paler  as  it  fell 

On  the  quiet  Asphodel. 

Now  the  unhappy  shall  confess 
Nothing  there  is  motionless: 
Helen,  like  thy  human  eye 
There  th'  uneasy  violets  lie  — 
There  the  reedy  grass  doth  wave 
Over  the  old  forgotten  grave  — 
One  by  one  from  the  tree  top 
There  the  eternal  dews  do  drop  — 
There  the  vague  and  dreamy  trees 
Do  roll  like  seas  in  northern  breeze 
Around  the  stormy  Hebrides  — 
There  the  gorgeous  clouds  do  fly, 
Rustling  everlastingly, 
Through  the  terror-stricken  sky, 
Rolling  like  a  waterfall 
O'er  the  horizon's  fiery  wall  — 
There  the  moon  doth  shine  by  night 
With  a  most  unsteady  light  — 


NOTES  233 


There  the  sun  doth  reel  by  day 
"  Over  the  hills  and  far  away." 

6.  Far  away :  One  and  all,  too. 

24.  the:  tall. 

46.  Now  each  visiter  shall  confess 
Nothing  there  is  motionless: 
Nothing  save  the  airs  that  brood 
O'er  the  enchanted  solitude, 
Save  the  airs  with  pinions  furled 
That  slumber  o'er  the  valley-world. 
No  wind  in  Heaven,  and  lo!  the  trees 
Do  roll  like  seas,  in  Northern  breeze, 
Around  the  stormy  Hebrides  — 
No  wind  in  Heaven,  and  clouds  do  fly, 
Rustling  everlastingly, 
Through  the  terror-stricken  sky, 
Rolling,  like  a  waterfall 
O'er  th*  horizon's  fiery  wall  — 
And  Helen,  like  thy  human  eye, 
Low  crouched  on  Earth,  some  violets  lie, 
And,  nearer  Heaven,  some  lilies  wave 
All  banner-like,  above  a  grave. 
And,  one  by  one,  from  out  their  tops 
Eternal  dews  come  down  in  drops, 
Ah,  one  by  one,  from  off  their  stems 
Eternal  dews  come  down  in  gems  I 


BRIDAL  BALLAD 

Southern  Literary  Messenger,  January,  1837,  (Ballad);  Philadelphia, 
Saturday  Evening  Post,  July  31,  1841;  Philadelphia,  Saturday  Museum, 
March  4, 1843,  (Song  of  The  Newly  Wedded);  1845;  Broadway  Journal, 
II.  4  ;  Richmond  Examiner,  October,  1849. 

Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 
Variations  from  the  text :  — 
I.  3.  Insert  after:  — 

And  many  a  rood  of  land.    S.  L.  M. 


234  NOTES 

II.  i.  He  has  loved  me  long  and  well.    S.  L.  M. 
a.  But:  And  -.first,  omit.    S.  L.  M. 

4.  oj.-like.    B.J.;S.  M. 

rang  as  a  knell:   were   his  who  fell.    S.  L.  M.     rang  like  a 
knell.     B.J. 

5.  Omit.    S.  L.  M. 

III.  i.  But:  And.    S.  L.  M. 
3.  While  .-But.    S.  L.  M. 

6.  Omit.    S.  L.  M.  Parenthesis  omitted  all  others,  except  J.  Lorimer 
Graham,  1845. 

7.  Insert  after:  — 

And  thus  they  said  I  plighted 

An  irrevocable  vow  — 
And  my  friends  are  all  delighted 

That  his  love  I  have  requited  — 
And  my  mind  is  much  benighted 

If  I  am  not  happy  nowl 

Lo!  the  ring  is  on  my  hand, 

And  the  wreath  is  on  my  brow  — 

Satins  and  jewels  grand, 

And  many  a  rood  of  land, 

Are  all  at  my  command, 

And  I  must  be  happy  now!     S.  L.  M. 

IV.  1-2. 1  have  spoken,  I  have  spoken, 

They  have  registered  the  vow.    S.  L.  M. 
It  was  spoken  —  it  was  spoken  — 
Quick  they  registered  the  vow.    S.  E.  P. 
5-6.  Here  is  a  ring  as  token 

That  I  am  happy  now.  Omit  all  others,  except  J.  Lorimer 
Graham,  1845. 

V.  5.  Lw/:And.    S.  L.  M. 

Note :  The  addition  of  the  two  new  lines  in  the  fourth  stanza  of  this 
poem  shows  the  interesting  way  in  which  Poe  derived  his  very  character 
istic  varied  repetend  by  doubling  up  two  previous  variant  readings.  The 
following  from  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  August,  1835,  might  well 
be  read  in  connection  with  this  poem.  Authorities  are  of  the  opinion  that 
it  may  have  been  the  first  draft  of  the  poem.  This  might  also  apply  to 
"  Lenore." 


NOTES  235 

The  subjoined  copy  of  an  old  Scotch  ballad  contains  so  much  of  the 
beauty  and  genuine  spirit  of  bygone  poetry  that  I  have  determined  to 
risk  a  frown  from  the  fair  lady  by  whom  the  copy  was  furnished  in  sub 
mitting  it  for  publication.  The  ladies  sometimes  violate  their  promises 
—  may  I  not  for  once  assume  the  privilege,  in  presenting  to  the  readers 
of  the  Messenger  this  "  legend  of  the  olden  time,"  although  /  promised  not  f 
Relying  on  the  kind  heart  of  the  lady  for  forgiveness  for  this  breach  of 
promise,  I  have  anticipated  the  pardon  in  sending  you  the  lines  which  I 
have  never  as  yet  seen  in  print:  — 

"  BALLAD 

"  They  have  giv'n  her  to  another  — 
They  have  sever'd  ev'ry  vow ; 
They  have  giv'n  her  to  another 
And  my  heart  is  lonely  now; 
They  remember'd  not  our  parting  — 
They  remember'd  not  our  tears, 
They  have  sever'd  in  one  fatal  hour 
The  tenderness  of  years. 
Oh!  was  it  weel  to  leave  me? 
Thou  couldst  not  so  deceive  me; 
Lang  and  sairly  shall  I  grieve  thee, 
Lost,  lost  Rosabel! 

"  They  have  giv'n  thee  to  another  — 

Thou  art  now  his  gentle  bride; 

Had  I  lov'd  thee  as  a  brother, 

I  might  see  thee  by  his  side; 

But  7  know  with  gold  they  won  the* 

And  thy  trusting  heart  beguil'd; 

Thy  mother,  too,  did  shun  me, 
•  For  she  knew  I  lov'd  her  child. 

Oh!  was  it  weel,  etc. 

(  **  They  have  giv'n  her  to  another  — 
She  will  love  him,  so  they  say; 
If  her  mem'ry  do  not  chide  her, 
Or,  perhaps,  perhaps  she  may; 
But  I  know  that  she  hath  spoken 


236  NOTES 


What  she  never  can  forget ; 
And  tho'  my  poor  heart  be  broken, 
It  will  love  her,  love  her  yet. 
Oh!  was  it  weel,  etc." 

THE  SLEEPER 

"The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,"  1842;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Mu 
seum,  March  4, 1843;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  I.  18;  1831,  Title  Irene; 
Poe  MS.  Irene  The  Dead;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  May,  1836,  Irene; 
Richmond  Examiner,  October,  1849. 

Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 
Variations  from  the  text :  — 
II.  fog:  mist.    P.  P.  A. 

16.  Insert  after:  — 

Her  casement  open  to  the  skies.  S.  M.;  1845;  B.  J.;  Her :  with 
P.  P.  A. 

17.  Irene  with :  And.    P.  P.  A. 
19.  WINDOW:  lattice.    S.  M. 
ao-2i.  Omit.    S.  M.;  P.  P.  A. 

35.  Stranger  thy  glorious  length  of  tress.    P.  P.  A. 
39-47.  Soft  may  the  worms  about  her  creep  1 

This  bed,  being  changed  for  one  more  holy, 

This  room  for  one  more  melancholy 

I  pray  to  God  that  she  may  lie 

Forever  with  unclosed  eye! 

My  love  she  sleeps,  O,  may  her  sleep 

As  it  is  lasting  so  be  deep! 

Heaven  have  her  in  its  sacred  keepl    P.  P.  A. 

44.  pale:  dim.    S.  M.;  1845;  B.  J. 

49.  vault:  tomb.    P.  P.  A. 

50.  vault:  tomb.    P.  P.  A. 
57.  tomb:  vault.    P.  P.  A. 

59.  thrilling :  nor  thrill.    P.  P.  A. 

The  (1831)  earliest  version  reads  as  follows  :  — 


T  is  now  (so  sings  the  soaring  moon) 
Midnight  in  the  sweet  month  of  June, 


NOTES  237 

When  winged  visions  love  to  lie 

Lazily  upon  beauty's  eye, 

Or  worse  —  upon  her  brow  to  dance 

In  panoply  of  old  romance, 

Till  tl  oughts  and  locks  are  left,  alas! 

A  ne'er-to-be  untangled  mass. 

An  influence  dewy,  drowsy,  dim, 

Is  dripping  from  that  golden  rim; 

Grey  towers  are  mouldering  into  rest, 

Wrapping  the  fog  around  their  breast: 

Looking  like  Lethe,  see!  the  lake 

A  conscious  slumber  seems  to  take, 

And  would  not  for  the  world  awake: 

The  rosemary  sleeps  upon  the  grave  — 

The  lily  lolls  upon  the  wave  — 

And  million  bright  pines  to  and  fro, 

Are  rocking  lullabies  as  they  go, 

To  the  lone  oak  that  reels  with  bliss, 

Nodding  above  the  dim  abyss. 

All  beauty  sleeps:  and  lo!  where  lies 

With  casement  open  to  the  skies, 

Irene,  with  her  destinies  1 

Thus  hums  the  moon  within  her  ear, 
"O  lady  sweet!  how  earnest  thou  here? 
"Strange  are  thine  eyelids  —  strange  thy  dress! 
"And  strange  thy  glorious  length  of  tressl 
"  Sure  thou  art  come  o'er  far-off  seas,         ; 
"A  wonder  to  our  desert  trees! 
"Some  gentle  wind  hath  thought  it  right 
"To  open  thy  window  to  the  night, 
"And  wanton  airs  from  the  tree-top, 
"Laughingly  thro*  the  lattice  drop, 
"And  wave  this  crimson  canopy, 
"Like  a  banner  o'er  thy  dreaming  eyel 
"Lady,  awake!  lady  awake! 
"  For  the  holy  Jesus'  sake! 
"For  strangely  —  fearfully  in  this  hall 
"My  tinted  shadows  rise  and  fall!" 


238  NOTES 

The  lady  sleeps:  the  dead  all  sleep  — 
At  least  as  long  as  Love  doth  weep: 
Entranc'd,  the  spirit  loves  to  lie 
As  long  as  —  tears  on  Memory's  eye: 
But  when  a  week  or  two  go  by, 
And  the  light  laughter  chokes  the  sigh, 
Indignant  from  the  tomb  doth  take 
Its  way  to  some  remember'd  lake, 
Where  oft  —  in  life  —  with  friends  —  it  went 
To  bathe  in  the  pure  element, 
And  there,  from  the  untrodden  grass, 
Wreathing  for  its  transparent  brow 
Those  flowers  that  say  (ah  hear  them  now!) 
To  the  night-winds  as  they  pass, 
"Ai!  ail  alas!  —  alas!" 
Pores  for  a  moment,  ere  it  go, 
On  the  clear  waters  there  that  flow, 
Then  sinks  within  (weigh'd  down  by  wo) 
Th'  uncertain,  shadowy  heaven  below. 


The  lady  sleeps:  oh!  may  her  sleep 

As  it  is  lasting  so  be  deep  — 

No  icy  worms  about  her  creep: 

I  pray  to  God  that  she  may  lie 

Forever  with  as  calm  an  eye, 

That  chamber  chang'd  for  one  more  holy  — 

That  bed  for  one  more  melancholy. 

Far  in  the  forest,  dim  and  old, 
For  her  may  some  tall  vault  unfold, 
Against  whose  sounding  door  she  hath  thrown, 
In  childhood,  many  an  idle  stone  — 
Some  tomb,  which  oft  hath  flung  its  black 
And  vampyre-winged  pannels  back, 
Flutt'ring  triumphant  o'er  the  palls 
Of  her  old  family  funerals. 

Variations  from  the  above :  — 
1-2.  I  stand  beneath  the  soaring  moon 

At  midnight  in  the  month  of  June.    S.  L.  M.;  MS. 


NOTES  239 

3-8.  omitS.L.M.;io.tfa/:yon.  S.L.M.;herMS.;i8.  brightpinet: 
cedars.  S.  L.  M . ;  20.  reels  with  bliss,  nodding  hangs.  S.  L.  M. ;  21 .  Abov» 
yon  cataract  of  Serangs.  S.  L.  M. 

23-24.  With:  her;  transpose,  MS.;  25  substitute:  — 
And  hark  the  sounds  so  low  yet  clear, 
(Like  music  of  another  sphere) 
Which  steal  within  the  slumberer's  ear, 
Or  so  appear  —  or  so  appearl    S.  L.  M. 

35.  Insert:  — 

"  So  fitfully,  so  fearfully.    S.  L.  M. 

36.  Like :  As.   S.  L.  M.;  37  substitute:  — 

"That  o'er  the  floor,  and  down  the  wall, 

"Like  ghosts  the  shadows  rise  and  fall  — 

"Then,  for  thine  own  all  radiant  sake, 

"Lady,  awake!  awakel  awake!  "    S.  L.  M.;  MS.    \ 

37.  That  o'er  the  floor:  thro' the  floors.    MS. 

39.  All  radiant :  beloved.  MS. 

40.  Awake/  Awake:  Lady  awake.  MS. 
40-58.  Omit.  S.  L.  M. 

48.  Some  remember' d  like :  Heaven  and  sorrows  forsake.  MS. 
49-S9-  Omit  MS. 

72.  Winged:  Wing-like.  S.  L.  M.;  MS. 

Note :  In  a  letter  to  R.  W.  Griswold  dated  April  19, 1845,  Poe  states, 
"In 'The  Sleeper'  the  line  Forever  with  unclosed  eye,  should  read: 
'  Forever  with  unopen'd  eye.' 

"  Is  it  possible  to  make  the  alteration  ?  "  This  was  never  corrected  by 
Griswold. 

Poe's  manuscript  of  this  poem  written  in  the  album  of  his  poet  friend, 
John  C.  McCabe,  is  now  in  the  possession  of  Captain  W.  Gordon  Me* 
Cabe  of  Richmond,  Virginia.  It  is  headed  "Irene  the  Dead"  and  signed 
£.  A.  Poe.  The  handwriting  is  approximately  the  same  as  that  in  the 
manuscript  of  the  "  Spiritual  Song." 

THE  COLISEUM 

The  Baltimore  Saturday  Morning  Visiler,  1833;  Southern  Literary 
Messenger,  title  (The  Coliseum,  A  Prize  Poem),  August,  1835;  Phila 
delphia  Saturday  Evening  Post,  June  12,  1841,  with  subtitle  (A  Prize 
Poem);  "The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,"  1842,  title  (Coliseum); 


240  NOTES 

Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4, 1843;  1845;  Broadway  Jour- 
ttat,U.  x. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text: — 
x.  The:  Omit.    S.  M.  V. 
8.  Thy:  the.    So  drink:  the  dank.    S.  M.  V. 

Amid:  Within.    P.  P.  A. 
XX.  Insert  after:  — 

I        Gaunt  vestibules!  and  phantom  peopled  aisles!    S.  L.  M. 
20.  Gilded :  yellow.    S.  L.  M. 
31.  Insert  after:  — 

Here,  where  on  ivory  couch  the  Caesar  sate, 
On  bed  of  moss  lies  gloating  the  foul  adder.    S.  L.  M. 
22.  Monarch  lotted :  Cassar  sate.    P.  P.  A. 
23-24.  On  bed  of  moss  lies  gloating  the  foul  adder! 

Here  where  on  ivory  couch  the  Monarch  loll'd.    P.  P.  A. 
26.  But  stay — these:  These  crumbling;  ivy  clad:  tottering.  S.  L.  M.; 

But  hold!  —  these  dark,  these  perishing  arcades."    P.  P.  A. 
28.  Crumbling:  broken.    S.  L.  M.;  P.  P.  A. 
31.  Famed:  Great.    S.  L.  M.;  proud.    P.  P.  A. 

35.  Unto :  to.    P.  P.  A. 

36.  Melody :  in  old  days.    S.  L.  M. 
39.  Impotent:  desolate.    S.  L.  M. 

34.  To  end,  except  after  glory,  1.  46,  omit  quotation  marks. 
S.  L.  M. 

Note :  This  was  the  poem  offered  for  the  prize  in  the  Baltimore  Saturday 
Morning  Visiter. 

The  first  nine  lines  of  the  poem  are  printed  in  The  Bibliophile,  of  Lon 
don,  England,  for  May,  1909,  from  a  fragment  of  a  Poe  MS.  The  only 
variation  is,  "  stand  "  for  "kneel"  in  the  seventh  line.  It  is  stated  there 
that  no  proof  exists  that  the  poem  was  published  earlier  than  August, 
1835,  when  it  was  issued  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger.  A  copy  of 
an  early  text  from  the  Baltimore  Saturday  Morning  Visiter  is  now  hi  our 
possession  from  Professor  J.  H.  Hewitt,  who  was  the  editor,  and  received 
the  prize  for  the  competing  poem.  The  variant  readings  of  same  are 
given  here  for  the  first  time. 

The  MS.  in  The  Bibliophile  is  evidently  a  portion  of  the  MS.  of  "  Poli- 
tian  "  —  which  ended  with  some  of  the  lines  from  this  poem. 


NOTES  241 


LENORE 

The  Pioneer,  February,  1843;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March 
4,  1843;  Graham's  Magazine,  February,  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  II.  6. 
"A  P«an,"  1831;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  January,  1836;  Richmond 
Whig,  September  18, 1849;  Richmond  Examiner,  October,  1849. 
Text,  Richmond  Whig. 

Variations  from  the  text: — 

I.  5.  Come :  Ah.    G.  M. 

II.  I.  And  ye :  ye  out  all  others. 
3.  Shall :  no  italics.    G.  M. 

m.  I.  Yet:  but;  but:  and  all  others. 
3.  Gone  before :  quotation  marks  all  others.  • 

5.  Debonair:  Italics  all  others. 

IV.  I.  to  friends,  from  fiends :  from  fiends  below.  J.  Lorimer  Graham, 

1845- 

a.  Utmost :  out  all  others 

3.  Moan:  Grief.    J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

4.  no :  no  italics.    J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 

6.  no :  No  all  others. 

The  earliest  version,  1831,  is  as  follows:  the  readings  of  the  Southern 
Literary  Messenger  being  noted  below:  — 

A  P/EAN 


How  shall  the  burial  rite  be  read? 

The  solemn  song  be  sung? 
The  requiem  for  the  loveliest  dead, 

That  ever  died  so  young? 


Her  friends  are  gazing  on  her, 
And  on  her  gaudy  bier, 

And  weep!  —  oh!  to  dishonor 
Dead  beauty  witc  a  tearl 


242  NOTES 


in 

They  loved  her  for  her  wealth  — 
And  they  hated  her  for  her  pride  — • 

But  she  grew  in  feeble  health, 
And  they  love  her  —  that  she  died. 


They  tell  me  (while  they  speak 
Of  her  "costly  broider'd  pall") 

That  my  voice  is  growing  weak  — 
That  I  should  not  sing  at  all  — 


Or  that  my  tone  should  be 
Tun'd  to  such  solemn  song 

So  mournfully  —  so  mournfully, 
That  the  dead  may  feel  no  wrong. 


But  she  is  gone  above, 

With  young  Hope  at  her  side, 
And  I  am  drunk  with  love 

Of  the  dead,  who  is  my  bride.  • 

vn 

Of  the  dead  —  dead  who  lies 

All  perfum'd  there, 
With  the  death  upon  her  eyes, 

And  the  life  upon  her  hair.    ; 


Thus  on  the  coffin  loud  and  long 

I  strike  —  the  murmur  sent 
Through  the  gray  chambers  to  my  song, 

Shall  be  the  accompaniment. 


Thou  died'st  in  thy  life's  June  — 
But  thou  didst  not  die  too  fair: 


NOTES  243 


Thou  didst  not  die  too  soon, 
Nor  with  too  calm  an  air. 


From  more  than  fiends  on  earth, 

Thy  life  and  love  are  riven, 
To  join  the  untainted  mirth 

Of  more  than  thrones  in  heaven  — 

XI 

Therefore,  to  thee  this  night 

I  will  no  requiem  raise, 
But  waft  thee  on  thy  flight 

With  a  Ptean  of  old  days. 

II.  4.  Dead :  Her. 

VII.  I.  dead  who :  dead  —  who. 

2.  perfum'd  there :  motionless. 
4.  her  hair:  each  tress. 

VIII.  Omit. 

IX.  1-2.  In  June  she  died :  in  June 

Of  life  —  beloved  and  fair. 

3.  Thou  didst :  But  she  did. 

X.  Thy  life  and  love  are :  Helen,  thy  soul  is. 
3.  untainted:  all-hallowed. 

The  Pioneer  version,  1843,  is  as  follows:  the  Saturday  Museum  text  is 
made  up  of  two  lines  less  and  the  readings  are  noted  below:  — 

LENORE , 

Ah,  broken  is  the  golden  bowl! 

The  spirit  flown  forever! 
Let  the  bell  toll!  —  A  saintly  soul 

Glides  down  the  Stygian  river  I 
And  let  the  burial  rite  be  read  — 

The  funeral  song  be  sung  — 
A  dirge  for  the  most  lovely  dead 
That  ever  died  so  young! 
And,  Guy  De  Vere, 


244  NOTES 

Hast  thou  no  tear? 

Weep  now  or  nevermore! 
See,  on  yon  drear 
And  rigid  bier, 

Low  lies  thy  love  Lenore! 

"Yon  heir,  whose  cheeks  of  pallid  hue, 

With  tears  are  streaming  wet, 
Sees  only,  through 
Their  crocodile  dew, 
A  vacant  coronet  — 

False  friends!  ye  loved  her  for  her  wealth 
\     And  hated  her  for  pride,    J  '       ' 
And,  when  she  fell  in  feeble  health, 
Ye  blessed  her  —  that  she  died. 
\  How  shall  the  ritual,  then,  be  read? 
The  requiem  how  be  sung 
For  her  most  wrong'd  of  all  the  dead 
That  ever  died  so  young?" 

Peccavimus  ! 

But  rave  not  thus! 

And  let  the  solemn  song 

Go  up  to  God  so  mournfully  that  she  may  feel  no  wrongl 
The  sweet  Lenore 
Hath  "gone  before" 

With  young  hope  at  her  side, 
And  thou  art  wild 
For  the  dear  child 
That  should  have  been  thy  bride  — 
For  her,  the  fair 
And  debonair, 

That  now  so  lowly  lies  — 
The  life  still  there 
Upon  her  hair, 

The  death  upon  her  eyes. 

"Avaunt!  —  to-night 
My  heart  is  light  — 


NOTES  545 

No  dirge  will  I  upraise, 
But  waft  the  angel  on  her  flight 
With  a  Paean  of  old  days! 
Let  no  bell  toll! 
Lest  her  sweet  soul, 

Amid  its  hallow'd  mirth, 
Should  catch  the  note 
As  it  doth  float 
Up  from  the  damned  earth  — 

To  friends  above,  from  fiends  below, 
Th'  indignant  ghost  is  riven  — 
From  grief  and  moan 
To  a  gold  throne 
Beside  the  King  of  Heaven  I" 

I.  4.  Glides  down :  Floats  on. 

II.  ii .  how :  no  italics. 
Other  readings  are:  — 
IV.: 

"Avaunt!  to-night  my  heart  is  light.  No  dirge  will  I  upraise.  ' 
"But  waft  the  angel  on  her  flight  with  a  paean  of  old  days! 
"Let  no  bell  toll!  —  lest  her  sweet  soul,  amid  its  hallowed  mirth,  * 
"Should  catch  the  note,  as  it  doth  float  up  from  the  damned  Earth. 
"To  friends  above,  from  fiends  below,  the  indignant  ghost  is  riven  — 
"  From  Hell  unto  a  high  estate  far  up  within  the  Heaven  — 
"From  grief  and  groan,  to  a  golden  throne,  beside  the  King  of  Heaven." 
—  1845.    G.  M.;  B.  J. 

7.  Grief:  moan.    B.  J.;  G.  M. 

Notes :  The  Richmond  Examiner  text  follows  the  text  with  slight  punc 
tuation  changes.  In  that  newspaper  was  published  October  12, 1849,  a 
statement  from  Poe  made  to  J.  M.  Daniel,  that  Mrs.  Shelton  to  whom  he 
was  betrothed  was  "his  ideal  and  the  original  of  Lenore." 

In  a  review  of  Amelia  Welby's  poem  in  the  Democratic  Review,  of  De 
cember,  1844,  Poe  said:  "Her  tone  is  not  so  much  the  tone  of  passion,  as 
of  a  gentle  and  melancholy  regret,  interwoven  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  the 
natural  loveliness  surrounding  the  lost  in  the  tomb,  and  a  memory  of  her 
beauty  while  alive  —  Elegiac  poems  should  either  assume  this  character, 
or  dwell  purely  on  the  beauty  (moral  or  physical)  of  the  departed,  or  bet* 


246  NOTES 

ter  still,  utter  the  note  of  triumph.  I  have  endeavored  to  carry  out  this 
latter  idea  in  some  verses  which  I  have  called  'Lenore.' " 

In  his  criticism  on  H.  B.  Hirst,  in  Griswold,  1850,  Poe  quotes  the  last 
three  lines  of  the  second  stanza  of  "  Lenore,"  and  states  that  it  was  first 
published  in  1830.  The  first  known  version  was  one  year  later.  The 
manuscript  in  Poe's  autograph  of  this  criticism  was  among  the  papers  of 
the  late  E.  C.  Stedman.  Poe  sent  it  to  Graham's  Magazine,  but  it  was  not 
published. 

In  his  "  Marginalia  "  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  May,  1849, 
Poe  quotes  the  first  two  lines  of  stanza  four  of  "Lenore"  and  uses  the 
"1845  "  text,  which  would  indicate  that  his  final  revision  of  the  poem  was 
made  late  in  that  year. 

In  a  letter  to  R.  W.  Griswold,  no  date  (1849),  Poe  enclosed  a  copy  of 
"Lenore"  for  a  new  edition  of  "  The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,"  and 
stated,  "I  would  prefer  the  concluding  stanza  to  run  as  here  written." 
The  J.  Lorimer  Graham  edition  of  1845  with  corrections  in  Poe's  hand 
was  not  in  Griswold's  possession  prior  to  the  issue  of  his  first  Poe  vol 
umes,  Neilson  Poe  having  failed  to  send  it  as  promised.  The  text  of 
stanza  four  of  the  poem  is  largely  a  reconstruction  of  the  elements  in 
the  Broadway  Journal  version  of  that  stanza. 

HYMN 

Poe  MS.  [Morella]  about  1832-33;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  April, 
1835  [Morella];  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  November,  1839  [Mo 
rella];  "Tales  of  the  Grotesque  and  Arabesque,"  1840  [Morella];  1845; 
Broadway  Journal,  II.  6. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text : — 
Insert  before:  — 

Sancta  Maria!  turn  thine  eyes 
Upon  the  sinner's  sacrifice 
Of  fervent  prayer,  and  humble  love, 
From  thy  holy  throne  above.    S.  L.  M.;  MS.;  B.  G. 
M.;  except 2,  the:  a.  B.  G.  M.,  1840. 

S-  the :  my;  brightly  ;  gently.  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  MS.  6.  not  a  cloud 
obscured  :  no  storms  were  in.  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  MS.  8.  grace:  love. 
S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  MS.  9.  storms :  clouds.  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  MS. 
10.  Darkly:  All.  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M. 


NOTES  247 

Note :  Poe  struck  out  the  word  "  Catholic "  from  the  title  of  this 
poem  in  the  J.  Lorimer  Graham  copy  of  the  1845  poems. 

ISRAFEL 

1831;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  August,  1836;  Graham's  Magazine, 
October,  1841;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4,  1843;  1845; 
Broadway  Journal,  II.  3.     Richmond  Examiner,  October,  1849. 
Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

II.  6.  Transpose  with  8.    G.  M. 

III.  4.  Owing  to :  due  unto.    G.  M. 

6.  The:  That.  Wire:  Lyre.    G.  M. 

7.  Of:  With.    G.  M. 

IV.  I.  Skies  :  Heavens.    G.  M. 

3.  Grown  up :  Grown.  Loves :  Love  is.  G.  M.   Where:  And.  S.  M.; 
B.J. 

4.  Where:  And.    S.  M.;  B.J. 
6.  Insert  after:  — 

The  more  lovely,  the  more  far!    G.  M. 

V.  i.  Thou  art  not,  therefore.    S.  M.;  B.  J;  G.  M. 
VIII.  i.  Could:  did.    G.  M. 

4.  So  wildly :  one  half  so.     G.  M. 

5.  One  half  so  passionately.    G.  M. 

Note :  In  the  Broadway  Journal,  Foe's  quotation  in  the  footnote  is  at 
tributed  to  Sale's  Koran.  In  Graham's  Magazine,  it  reads  "And  the 
angel  Israfel,  or  Israfeli  whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute,  and  who  is  the 
most  musical  of  all  God's  creatures,"  Koran. 

The  1831  version  reads  as  follows:  — 


In  Heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 
Whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute  — 
None  sing  so  wild  —  so  well 
As  the  angel  Israfel  — 
And  the  giddy  stars  are  mute. 

>  And  the  angel  IsraUI,  who  has  the  sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures. 


248  NOTES 


n 

Tottering  above 

In  her  highest  noon 

The  enamoured  moon 

Blushes  with  love  — 

While,  to  listen,  the  red  levin 

Pauses  in  Heaven. 

in 

And  they  say  (the  starry  choii 
And  all  the  listening  things) 
That  Israfeli's  fire 
Is  owing  to  that  lyre 
With  those  unusual  strings. 


But  the  Heavens  that  angel  trod 
Where  deep  thoughts  are  a  duty  — 
Where  Love  is  a  grown  god  — 
Where  Houri  glances  are  — 
Stay!  turn  thine  eyes  afar!  — 
Imbued  with  all  the  beauty 
Which  we  worship  in  yon  star. 


Thou  art  not,  therefore,  wrong 
Israfeli,  who  despisest 
An  unimpassion'd  song: 
To  thee  the  laurels  belong 
Best  bard,  —  because  the  wisest. 

VI 

The  extacies  above 
With  thy  burning  measures  suit 
Thy  grief  —  if  any  —  thy  love 
With  the  fervor  of  thy  lute  — 
Well  may  the  stars  be  mute! 


NOTES  249 


VII 

Yes,  Heaven  is  thine:  but  this 
Is  a  world  of  sweets  and  sours: 
Our  flowers  are  merely  —  flowers, 
And  the  shadow  of  thy  bliss 
Is  the  sunshine  of  ours. 


vin 

If  I  did  dwell  where  Israfel 

Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 

He  would  not  sing  one  half  as  well  — 

One  half  as  passionately, 

While  a  stormier  note  than  this  would  swell 

From  my  lyre  within  the  sky. 

Variations  of  Southern  Literary  Messenger  from  above :  — 
IV.  s-  Omit.    7.  yon :  a ;  VHI.  4.  So :  As  ;  5.  While  a  stormier :  And 
a  loftier. 

DREAM-LAND 

Graham's  Magazine,  June,  1844;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  I.  26;  Rich 
mond  Examiner,  October  29,  1849. 

Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 
Variations  from  the  text :  —  \ 

12.  dews :  tears.    J.  Lorimer  Graham,  1845. 
20.  Insert  after  1-6.  except  5,  read  my  home  for  these  lands  and 
6.  this  for  an.    G.  M. 

25.  Mountain.  G.  M.;  B.  J. 
38.  earth:  worms.  G.  M.;  B.  J. 

Insert  after  1-6.  except  5,  read  journeyed  home  for  reached  these 
lands  and  6.  this  for  an.  G.  M. 

42.  01  it  is:  'Tis  —  oh,  'tis,  all  others. 
47.  Its:  the.  G.  M.;  B.  J. 
50.  Beholds:  Beyond.    E. 

Note :  Poe  used  lines  nine  to  twelve  of  this  poem  with  slight  variations 
in  his  early  poem  on  "  Fairy-Land." 


25O  NOTES 

SONNET— TO  ZANTE 

Southern  Literary  Messenger,  January,  1837;  Poe  MS.,  1840;  Philadel 
phia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4,  1843;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  II.  a. 
Text,  1845. 

Note :  The  germ  of  this  poem  like  others  may  be  found  in  Poe's  early 
composition.  See  "Al  Aaraaf,"  Part  I. 

"From  struggling  with  the  waters  of  the  Rhone:  — 
And  thy  most  lovely  purple  perfume,  Zante! 
Isola  d'oro!   —  Fior  di  Levante!" 

The  MS.  of  this  poem  has  an  interesting  history.  The  original  owner 
was  one  of  Poe's  editors  who  gave  his  own  recollections  of  Poe,  but  for 
some  reason  failed  to  mention  this  incident. 

R.  H.  Stoddard  made  a  request  of  Poe  for  his  autograph,  and  in  a  letter 
dated  Philadelphia,  November  6,  1840,  Poe  expressed  himself  as  much 
gratified  at  the  request,  "and  now  hasten  to  comply  by  transcribing  a 
sonnet  of  my  own  composition."  The  letter  and  manuscript  of  the  poem 
were  included  in  a  sale  of  Mr.  Stoddard's  books  by  the  late  E.  C.  Sted- 
man,  his  executor,  who  related  the  incident  as  above. 

The  text  of  the  MS.  poem  only  varies  from  others  in  the  omission  of 
kalics  and  a  few  punctuation  changes. 

THE  CITY  IN  THE  SEA 

American  Whig  Review  (sub-title,  "A  Prophecy"),  April,  1845;  1845; 
Broadway  Journal,  II.  8.  "The  Doomed  City,"  1831 ;  "The  City  of  Sin," 
Southern  Literary  Messenger,  August,  1836. 
Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

3.  Far  off  in  a  region  unblest.  A.  W.  R. 

4.  And:  where.  S.  L.  M. 
14-19.  Omit.  S.  L.  M. 

20.  No  holy  rays  from  heaven  come  down.  S.  L.  M. 

22.  But  light  from  out  the  lurid  sea.  S.  L.  M. 

25.  Around  the  mournful  waters  lie.  A.  W.  R. 

28-35.  Omit    A.  W.  R. 

36.  For  no :  No  murmuring.  A.  W.  R. 

39.  Some:  a.  A.  W.  R. 

41.  S«w  less  hideously:  oceans  not  so  sad.   A.  W.  R. 


NOTES  251 

The  1831  version  reads  as  follows:  — 

THE  DOOMED  CITY 

Lo!  Death  hath  rear'd  himself  a  throne 

In  a  strange  city,  all  alone, 

Far  down  within  the  dim  west  — 

And  the  good,  and  the  bad,  and  the  worst,  and  the  best, 

Have  gone  to  their  eternal  rest. 

There  shrines  and  palaces  and  towers 
Are  —  not  like  anything  of  ours  — 
O!  no  —  O!  no  —  ours  never  loom 
To  heaven  with  that  ungodly  gloom! 
Tune-eaten  towers  that  tremble  notl 
Around,  by  lifting  winds  forgot, 
Resignedly  beneath  the  sky 
The  melancholy  waters  lie. 
A  heaven  that  God  doth  not  contemn 
With  stars  is  like  a  diadem  — 
We  liken  our  ladies'  eyes  to  them  — 
But  there!  That  everlasting  pall! 
It  would  be  mockery  to  call 
Such  dreariness  a  heaven  at  all. 

Yet  tho*  no  holy  rays  come  down 

On  the  long  night-time  of  that  town, 

Light  from  the  lurid,  deep  sea 

Streams  up  the  turrets  silently  — 

Up  thrones  —  up  long-forgotten  bowers 

Of  sculptur'd  ivy  and  stone  flowers  — 

Up  domes  —  up  spires  —  up  kingly  halls  — 

Up  fanes  —  up  Babylon-like  walls  — 

Up  many  a  melancholy  shrine 

Whose  entablatures  intertwine 

The  mask  —  the  viol  —  and  the  vine. 

There  open  temples  —  open  graves 
Are  on  a  level  with  the  waves  — 
But  not  the  riches  there  that  lie 
In  each  idol's  diamond  eye, 


252  NOTES 

Not  the  gayly-jewell'd  dead 
Tempt  the  waters  from  their  bed: 
For  no  ripples  curl,  alas! 
Along  that  wilderness  of  glass  — 
No  swellings  hint  that  winds  may  be 
Upon  a  far-off  happier  sea: 
So  blend  the  turrets  and  shadows  there 
That  all  seem  pendulous  in  air, 
While  from  the  high  towers  of  the  town 
Death  looks  gigantically  down. 
But  lo!  a  stir  is  in  the  air! 
The  wave!  there  is  a  ripple  there! 
As  if  the  towers  had  thrown  aside, 
In  slightly  sinking,  the  dull  tide  — 
As  if  the  turret-tops  had  given 
A  vacuum  in  the  filmy  heaven: 
The  waves  have  now  a  redder  glow  — 
A       The  very  hours  are  breathing  low  — 
And  when,  amid  no  earthly  moans, 
Down,  down  that  town  shall  settle  hence, 
Hell  rising  from  a  thousand  thrones 
Shall  do  it  reverence, 
And  Death  to  some  more  happy  clime 
Shall  give  his  undivided  time. 

Note :  The  earliest  form  of  this  poem  is  found  in  the  first  thirty-nine 
lines  of  "  Al  Aaraaf,"  Part  II,  with  note  "0,  the  Wave." 

TO  ONE  IN  PARADISE 

Southern  Literary  Messenger,  "The  Visionary,"  July,  1835;  Broadway 
Journal,  1. 19, 1. 23,  "The  Assignation  ";  "To  lanthe  in  Heaven,"  Bur 
ton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  July,  1839;  Tales,  "The  Visionary,"  1840; 
Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4, 1843 ;  1845 ;  Godey's  Lady's  Book, 
"The  Visionary,"  January,  1834. 

Text,  J.  Lorimer  Graham  copy  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

I.  i.  That  all:  all  that,  all  others. 

5.  With  fairy  fruits  and :  round  with  wild.  Go.  around  about  with. 
S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  1840. 


NOTES  253 

6.  All  the  flowers:  the  flowers  —  they  all.  S.L.M.;  B.G.M.;  1840. 

II.  i.  But  the  dream  — it  could  not  last.  Go.;  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.; 
1840. 

2.  Young  Hope!  thou  didst  arise.  Go.  And  the  star  of  Hope  did  rise. 
S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  1840.  Ah:  Oh.  S.  M. 

5.  "Ont  on"  — but:  "Onward."  Go.;  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  1840; 
B.  J.  but:  while.  Go.;  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  1840. 

III.  2.  Ambition  —  all  —  is  o'er.  Go.;  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  1840. 

4.  Solemn :  breaking.  Go. 

IV.  i.  Days:  hours.  Go.;S.L.M.;B.G.M.;i840.  And:  now.  B.J. 

3.  Grey :  dark,  all  others. 

5-6.  In  the  maze  of  Sashing  dances 
By  the  slow  Italian  streams.  Go. 

6.  Eternal:  Italian.  Go.;  S.  L.  M.;  1840;  B.J.  What:  far.  Go. 
Insert  after:  — 

Alas!  for  that  accursed  time 
They  bore  thee  o'er  the  billow, 
From  Love  to  titled  age  and  crime 
And  an  unholy  pillow  — 
From  me,  and  from  our  misty  clime 
Where  weeps  the  silver  willow.  S.  L.  M.;  1840;  Go.  ex 
cept: — 

3.  Love:  me, 

5.  me:  Love. 

The  Literary  World  of  February  5,  1853,  reprinted  from  the  London 
Spectator,  January  i,  1853,  a  manuscript  version  of  this  poem.  The  cor 
respondent  had  supposed  the  lines  to  be  by  Tennyson,  and  charged  Poe 
with  plagiarism.  Tennyson  wrote  to  the  Spectator,  January  20,  1853, 
correcting  the  statement.  The  text  of  the  manuscript  follows  the  South* 
ern  Literary  Messenger,  except:  — 

I.  i.  That:  Omit. 

II.  2.  And  the  star  of  life  did  rise. 
3.  But :  only. 

III.  1-5.  Like  the  murmur  of  the  solemn  sea 

To  sands  on  the  sea-shore 
A  voice  is  whispering  unto  me 

"The  day  is  past,"  and  nevermore. 

IV.  I.  And  all  mine  hours. 
a.  Nightly :  nights  are. 


254  NOTES 

3.  Are:  of. 

5-6.  In  the  maze  of  flashing  dances 
By  the  slow  Italian  streams. 

EULALIE  — A  SONG 

American  Whig  Review  (sub-title  "A  Song"),  July,  1845;  Broadway 
Journal,  II.  5;  1845. 

Text,  1845. 
Variations  from  the  text :  — 

II.  6.  morn  tints.  A.  W.  R. 

III.  4.  And:  while.  A.  W.  R.;  B.  J. 

7.  While:  And.  A.  W.  R.;  B.  J. 

8.  While:  And.  A.  W.  R.;  B.  J. 


1845;  "Lines  Written  in  an  Album,"  Southern  Literary  Messenger, 

September,  1835,  "To "  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  August, 

1839,  "To  F ,"  Broadway  Journal,  II.  10,  lines  1-4. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 
I.  Eliza  let  thy  generous  heart.  S.  L.  M. 

Fair  maiden  let  thy  generous  heart.  B.  G.  M. 

6.  Grace,  thy  more  than:  unassuming.  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M. 

7.  Shall  be  an  endless:  And  truth  shall  be  a.  S.  L.  M.  Thy  truth 
—  shall  be  a.  B.  G.  M. 

8.  Forever  —  and  love  a  duty.  S.  L.  M.;  B.  G.  M. 

Note:  The  poem  was  addressed  to  Frances  S.  Osgood  by  Poe  in  1845. 
The  lines  were  also  written  in  his  wife's  album.  Her  name  was  Virginia 
Eliza  Clemm. 

TO  F 

1845;  Broadway  Journal,  I.  17,  "To  Mary  "  ;  Southern  Literary  Mes 
senger,  July,  1835,  "To  One  Departed";  Graham's  Magazine,  March, 
1842;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4,  1843. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 
I.  I.  Mary  amid  the  cares  — the  woes.  S.  L.  M. 

For  'mid  the  earnest  cares  and  woes.  G.  M.;  S.  M. 


NOTES  255 

a.  That  crowd :  crowding.  S.  L.  M. 

3.  Drear:  sad.  S.  L.  M.;  G.  M.;  S.  M. 
7.  Bland :  sweet.  S.  L.  M. 

II.  I.  And  thus  :  Seraph.  G.  M.;  S.  M. 

4.  Some  lake  beset  as  lake  can  be.  S.  L.  M. 

throbbing  far  and  free :  vexed  as  it  may  be.  G.  M.;  S.  M. 
Reverse  the  order  of  stanzas.  G.  M.;  S.  M. 


SONNET — SILENCE 

Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  April,  1840;  Philadelphia  Saturday 
Museum,  March  4, 1843;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  II.  3. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  of  B.  G.  M.  from  the  text :  — 
a.  Which  thus  is :  life  aptly. 
3.  A  :  The. 
9.  No  more  :  italics. 

12.  Untimely  lot:  no  parenthesis. 

13.  Shadow :  italics. 

14.  That:  who;  lone:  dim. 

Notes :  There  are  several  early  references  to  "Silence "  in  "  Al  Aaraaf ." 
In  Part  I  appears:  — 

"Ours  is  a  world  of  words:  Quiet  we  call 
"Silence,"  —  which  is  the  merest  word  of  all. 
All  Nature  speaks,  and  even  ideal  things 
Flap  shadowy  sounds  from  visionary  wings." 

Poe's  tale,  "  Silence.  A  Fable,"  which  was  originally  published  in  1839 
as  "  Slope,"  contained  the  first  two  lines  of  the  above  quotation  from 
"Al  Aaraaf." 

A  poem  on  "Silence,"  signed  "P,"  as  Poe  had  previously  printed  some 
of  his  lines,  appeared  in  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  for  September, 
1839,  while  he  was  editor.  This  was  regarded  as  Poe's  poem,  until  a  recent 
chance  reference  to  William  Sharp's  "Sonnets  of  this  Century"  disclosed 
the  fact  that  it  was  Thomas  Hood's  sonnet. 

Sharp's  note,  p.  297,  referring  to  Hood's  "Silence"  (Nos.  ciii-iv)  says 
it  "  should  be  compared  with  the  following  well-known  sonnet  by  Edgar 
Poe."  He  gives  the  lines  of  Poe's  own  "Silence,"  as  first  printed  in  Bur 
ton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  for  April,  1840,  while  Poe  was  still  the  editor. 


256  NOTES 

Hood's  lines  on  "Silence,  "most  assuredly  printed  by  Foe  in  the  Sep 
tember,  1839,  Burton's  Gentleman's  M agazine,  follow  Hood's  text,  except 
in  the  eighth  line,  which  has  characteristic  Poe  punctuation.  It  seems  a 
question  whether  Poe  was  influenced  by  Hood's  lines  in  writing  his  own 
sonnet,  or  printed  them  as  a  hoax.  If  the  latter  had  been  his  intention,  as 
was  his  custom  he  would  have  called  attention  to  the  matter  after 
wards.  The  fact,  however,  that  he  remained  quiet  seven  months  and 
then  wrote  his  own  lines  would  indicate  that  he  hoped  that  his  lines  might 
be  compared  with  Hood's  and  cause  public  comment;  or,  like  the  lines  of 
Cone's  "Proud  Ladye,"  which  he  reviewed  in  Burton's  Gentleman's  Maga 
zine  for  July,  1840,  and  which  are  presumed  to  have  inspired  him  to 
write  "The  Conqueror  Worm  "  six  months  afterwards,  Hood's  "Silence  " 
may  have  influenced  him  to  some  extent  to  write  his  own  verse. 

THE  CONQUEROR  WORM 

Graham's  Magazine,  January,  1843;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum, 
March  4, 1843;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  I.  21;  II.  12  "Ligeia"  ;  Poe 
MS. ;  Richmond  Enquirer,  October,  1849. 

Text,  Richmond  Enquirer. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

I.  3.  An  angel:  A  mystic.  G.  M.;  S.  M.;  B.  J. 

II.  5.  formless:  shadowy.  G.  M. 

IV.  7.  seraphs :  the  angels,  all  others  except  J.  L.  G.,  1845  edition. 

V.  2.  quivering:  dying.  G.  M.;  B.  J. 

5.  while:  And,  all  others,  except  J.  L.  G.,  1845  edition.  Angels: 
seraphs;  pallid :  haggard.  G.  M. 

8.  And:  Omit.  G.  M.;  S.  M.;  B.  J. 

Notes:  In  "Ligeia,"  in  the  Broadway  Journal,  Poe  wrote  "angels"  in 
the  fourth  line  of  the  first  stanza  of  this  poem  instead  of "  Mystic, "  and  in 
the  fourth  verse  changed  "  angels  "  to  "  seraph, "  as  he  did  in  his  later  cor 
rections. 

A  MS.  copy  of  the  poem,  originally  sent  to  Griswold  by  Poe  and  noted 
in  Griswold's  hand  "  Last  poem  sent  by  Poe,"  has  been  compared.  It  fol 
lows  the  early  texts  with  slight  punctuation  changes. 

In  Poe's  review  of  Spencer  Wallace  Cone's  poems  in  Burton's  Gentle 
man's  Magazine,  June,  1840,  he  says:  "Here  is  a  passage  which  breathes 
the  true  soul  of  poetry,  and  gives  evidence  of  a  purity  of  taste  as  well  as  a 
vigor  of  thought  which  may  lead  to  high  eminence  in  the  end:  —  . 


NOTES  257 

'"Spread  o'er  his  rigid  form 
The  banner  of  his  pride, 
And  let  him  meet  the  conqueror  worm ' 
With  his  good  sword  by  his  side.'  " 


THE  HAUNTED  PALACE 

Baltimore  Museum,  April,  1839;  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  "The 
Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,"  September,  1839;  Tales,  "Fall  of  the 
House  of  Usher,"  1840;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4, 
1843;  Graham's  Magazine,  February,  1845;  1845;  Tales,  1845,  "The 
Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher  ";  Richmond  Examiner,  October,  1849. 
Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

I.  4.  radiant:  snow  white.  B.  M.;  1840;  B.  G.  M. 

III.  i.  all  wanderers.  B.  M. 

8.  ruler :  sovereign.  B.  M.;  B.  G.  M. 

IV.  5.  sweet :  sole.  B.  G.  M. 

VI.  2.  encrimson'd:  red  litten,  all  others;  5.  ghastly  rapid:  rapid 
ghastly.  B.  M.;  B.  G.  M.;  1840;  1845. 

Notes :  In  Graham's  Magazine  the  fourth  and  sixth  stanzas  are  entirely 
in  italics.  The  MS.  of  this  poem  is  now  complete,  the  first  half,  originally 
in  the  possession  of  R.  W.  Griswold,  having  been  found.  It  was  evidently 
sent  to  Griswold  late  in  1849,  as  it  closely  follows  the  text,  and  the  J.  Lori- 
mer  Graham  edition  of  1845,  with  Poe's  corrections.  The  Griswold  col 
lection  now  has  only  the  last  half,  and  the  first  part,  supposed  to  have 
been  lost,  has  been  found  and  was  used  in  comparing  the  texts. 

In  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  at  the  end  of  "The  Fall  of  the  House 
of  Usher,"  is  the  following  note:  "The  ballad  of  'The  Haunted  Palace' 
introduced  in  this  tale  was  published  separately  some  months  ago  in  the 
Baltimore  Museum." 

In  a  letter  to  Griswold,  March  29, 1841,  Poe  stated:  "By  The  Haunted 
Palace,  I  mean  to  imply  a  mind  haunted  by  phantoms  —  a  disordered 
brain." 

In  "Marginalia  "  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  for  May,  1849, 
Poe  quotes  the  first  twelve  lines  of  this  poem,  which  follows  the  text, 
except  "Radiant  Palace  "is  in  parenthesis  instead  of  lines  eleven  and 
twelve. 


258  NOTES 


SCENES  FROM  "POLITIAN" 

AN   UNPUBLISHED   DRAMA 

Southern  Literary  Messenger,  December,  1835;  January,  1836;  184$, 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  of  Southern  Literary  Messenger  from  the  text:— 
II.  I.  Rome.   1845. 

114.  this  sacred:  A  vow  —  a. 
HI.  I.  Baldazzar:  Baldazzar  his  friend. 

7.  surely :  I  live. 

69.  eloquent :  voice  —  that. 

70.  surely  1:1  surely. 
76.  it:  that  lattice. 

104.  Believe  me:  Baldazzar!  Oh! 

IV.  5.  sob:  weep. 
6.  mourn:  weep. 

9.  turn  here  thine  eyes :  and  listen  to  me. 
30.  to  me:  speak  not. 

V.  7.  Paradisal  Hope :  hopes  —  give  me  to  live. 
After  50,  insert:  — 

If  that  we  meet  at  all,  it  were  as  well 
That  I  should  meet  him  in  the  Vatican  — 
In  the  Vatican  —  within  the  holy  walls 
Of  the  Vatican. 

66.  then  at  once :  have  at  thee  then. 
73.  thy  sacred :  hold  off  thy. 
73.  indeed  I  dare  not :  I  dare  not,  dare  not. 
After  73,  insert:  — 

Exceeding  well!  —  them  darest  not  fight  with  me? 
After  82,  insert:  — 

Thou  darest  not! 
84.  my  lord:  alas! 
86.  the  veriest :  I  am  —  a. 
99.  thou  liest:  By  God;  indeed  —  now  this. 

Notes:  In  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  the  title  is  "Scenes  From  An 
Unpublished  Drama,"  and  begins  with  Part  II,  of  the  text. 
A  portion  of  the  drama  is  quoted  in  the  "Longfellow  War, "  Broadway 


NOTES  259 

Journal,  March  29, 1845.  The  lines  about  Jacinta  and  her  mistress'  jewels 
in  the  second  scene  are  changed,  and  the  line  "This  sacred  vow"  changed 
to  "A  pious  vow." 

The  song  in  "Politian  "  which  Poe  says  is  English  has  been  identified. 
It  is  among  £he  poems  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  an  early  English  poet.  The 
full  text  follows:  — 


"THE  LOVER'S  APPEAL 

"And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus? 
Say  nay!  say  nay!  for  shame, 
To  save  thee  from  the  blame 
Of  all  my  grief  and  grame. 
And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus? 
Say  nay!  say  nay! 

"And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus, 
That  hath  loved  thee  so  long, 
In  wealth  and  woe  among? 
And  is  thy  heart  so  strong 
As  for  to  leave  me  thus? 
Say  nay!  say  nay! 

"And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus, 
That  hath  given  thee  my  heart 
Never  for  to  depart 
Neither  for  pain  nor  smart; 
And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus? 
Say  nay!  say  nay! 

"And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus, 
And  have  no  more  pity 
Of  him  that  loveth  thee? 
Alas!  thy  cruelty! 
And  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus? 
Say  nay!  say  nay!  " 

The  original  manuscript  of  the  drama  of  Politian  is  now  in  the  library 
of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  Esq.,  of  New  York.  It  was  once  in  the  possession 
of  Mrs.  Lewis.  The  MS.  consists  of  twenty  folio  pages,  containing  nearly 


26O  NOTES 

six  hundred  and  fifty  lines,  but  is  not  complete;  some  pages  have  gone 
astray.  At  the  top  of  the  first  page  is  the  heading:  — 

"Politian  —  a  tragedy 
Scene  —  Rome  in  the  —  Century." 

The  drama  ends  with  Politian,  alone  in  the  Coliseum  at  night,  who  utters 
a  characteristic  soliloquy  —  nothing  less  than  a  portion  of  the  well-known 
lines  from  "The  Coliseum."  There  are  few  alterations,  but  some  inter 
lineations  and  lines  marked  out.  At  the  head  of  the  first  extract  printed 
in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  Poe  has  written  in  pencil  "Scenes 
from  Politian.  An  unpublished  Tragedy  by  Edgar  A.  Poe,  Act  II,  Scene 
3,"  which  indicates  that  the  MS.  was  evidently  used  for  the  Messenger 
text  —  the  variations  having  been  made  in  proof.  The  manuscript  was 
probably  written  about  1831.  A  list  of  the  dramatis  persona  follows 
the  heading  and  shows  four  additional  characters.  It  also  describes  the 
characters  "  Lalage,"  an  orphan  and  the  ward  of  Di  Broglio;  Politian,  "a 
young  and  noble  Roman";  Baldazzar,  "his  friend."  The  two  latter 
personages  were  subsequently  transformed  into  the  " Earl  of  Leicester" 
and  the  "Duke  of  Surrey." 

The  first  act  is  a  scene  in  the  palazzp  of  the  Duke  Di  Broglio  in  an  apart 
ment  strewn  with  the  debris  of  a  protracted  revel,  with  two  of  the  Duke's 
servants,  Benito  and  Ugo,  the  latter  intoxicated,  who  are  joined  by  Ru 
pert  a  third  servant.  They  discuss  their  master's  son,  Count  Castiglione, 
who  was  — 

"Not  long  ago 
A  very  nobleman  in  heart  and  deed." 

But  of  his  treatment  of  the  beautiful  lady  Lalage,  Rupert  says:  — 
"His  conduct  there  has  damned  him  in  my  eyes." 

"O  villain!  villain!  she  his  plighted  wife 
And  his  own  father's  ward.  I  have  noticed  well 
That  we  may  date  his  ruin  —  so  I  call  it  — 
His  low  debaucheries  —  his  gaming  habits  — 
And  all  his  numerous  vices  from  the  time 
Of  that  most  base  seduction  and  abandonment." 

Benito:  — 

"The  sin  sits  heavily  on  his  soul 
And  goads  him  to  these  courses." 


NOTES  26l 

They  speak  further  of  Castiglione's  approaching  nuptials  with  his 
cousin  Alessandra,  who  was  "the  bosom  friend  of  the  fair  lady  Lalage  ere 
this  mischance."  Benito  and  Rupert  retire  to  bed  and  leave  Ugo,  who 
while  also  about  to  depart  meets  Jacinta  the  maid  servant  of  Lalage,  with 
whom  he  is  enamored.  She  displays  some  jewels,  and  intimates  that  they 
were  given  to  her  by  Castiglione,  but  finally  sets  at  rest  the  green-eyed 
monster,  and  ends  the  scene  by  confessing  that  they  were  given  to  her  by 
Mistress  Lalage  "as  a  free  gift  and  for  a  marriage  present." 

The  second  scene  introduces  Castiglione  and  his  evil  genius  the  Count 
San  Ozzo,  in  the  former's  dressing  room.  The  Count  hints  of  the  Duke's 
keeping  Lalage  in  seclusion,  and  hums:  — 

"Birds  of  so  fine  a  feather, 
And  of  so  wanton  eye, 
Should  be  caged  —  should  be  caged  — 
Should  be  caged  in  all  weather 
Lest  they  fly." 

To  which  Castiglione  replies:  — 

"San  Ozzo!  you  do  her  wrong  —  unmanly  wrong! 
Never  in  woman's  breast  enthroned  sat 
A  purer  heart!  If  ever  woman  fell 
With  an  excuse  for  falling,  it  was  she! 
If  ever  plighted  vows  most  sacredly  — 
Solemnly-sworn,  perfidiously  broken, 
Will  damn  a  man,  that  damned  villain  am  II 
Young,  ardent,  beautiful  —  and  loving  well  — 
And  pure  as  beautiful — how  could  she  think  — 

"How  could  she  dream,  being  herself  all  truth, 
Of  my  black  perfidy?  Oh,  that  I  were  not 
Castiglione,  but  some  peasant  hind; 
The  humble  tiller  of  some  humble  field 
That  I  dare  be  honest!" 

San  Ozzo:  — 

"Exceedingly  fine! 

I  never  heard  a  better  speech  in  all  my  life, 
Besides,  you  're  right.  Oh,  honesty  '»  the  thingl 


262  NOTES 

Honesty,  poverty  and  true  consent, 
With  the  unutterable  ecstasies, 
Of  bread,  and  milk  and  water! " 

The  third  scene  opens  in  a  Hall  in  the  Palace,  and  with  minor  altera 
tions  is  what  is  now  the  first  published.  The  next  scene  opens  with  Di 
Broglio  and  his  son  in  conversation  about  Politian.  Castiglione  "always 
thought  the  Earl  a  gloomy  man,  but  instead  I  have  found  him  full  of  such 
humor  —  such  wit  —  such  vim  —  such  flashes  of  merriment." 

They  are  disturbed  by  the  entrance  of  Politian  and  Baldazzar.  Casti 
glione  attempts  to  introduce  them  to  his  father,  but  Politian  suddenly  re 
tires  and  is  excused  by  Baldazzar,  who  claims  for  his  friend  sudden  illness. 
The  scene  which  follows  is  the  third  published.  The  next  third  act  of 
the  MS.  is  fourth  of  that  published.  The  next,  unpublished,  shows 
preparations  for  the  wedding  of  Alessandra  and  Castiglione,  and  the  bad 
treatment  of  Ugo  by  Jacinta.  This  is  followed  by  scene  5  as  published.  A 
long  hiatus  occurs  in  the  MS.,  where  scene  5  now  ends  with  Castiglione. 
The  whole  of  the  first  scene,  4th  act,  in  which  it  is  learned  that  Politian 
again  met  Castiglione  and 

"In  the  public  streets 
Called  him  a  coward!" 

is  missing,  as  also  the  first  thirty-seven  lines  of  the  succeeding  scene  be 
tween  San  Ozzo  and  Ugo.  The  latter,  apparently  dejected  by  Jacinta 's 
treatment,  attempts  to  commit  suicide.  San  Ozzo  remarks  aside:  — 

"I  've  heard  before  that  such  ideas  as  these 
Have  seized  on  human  brains." 

The  third  scene  brings  Politian  alone  in  the  moonlit  Coliseum  waiting 
for  Lalage,  and  with  the  soliloquy  the  MS.  ends. 


THE  BELLS 

Sartain't  Union  Magazine,  November,  1849.   Richmond  Examiner, 
October,  1849. 

Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 


NOTES  263 


Variations  from  Sartain's  Union  Magazine :  — 

I.  3 .  What :  no  italics. 

II.  3.  What:  no  italics. 

13.  What :  no  italics. 

in.  3.  What:  no  italics. 

36.  Yes:  Yet. 
IV.  3.  What:  no  italics. 

Notes ;  Sartain's  Union  Magazine,  December,  1849. 
"The  singular  poem  of  Mr.  Poe's,  called  'The  Bells,'  which  we  published 
in  our  last  number,  has  been  very  extensively  copied.  There  is  a  curious 
piece  of  literary  history  connected  with  this  poem,  which  we  may  as  well 
give  now  as  at  any  other  time.  It  illustrates  the  gradual  development 
of  an  idea  in  the  mind  of  a  man  of  original  genius.  This  poem  came  into 
our  possession  about  a  year  since.  It  then  consisted  of  eighteen  lines  I  They 
were  as  follows:  — 

"THE  BELLS.  —  A  SONG 

"The  bells!  —  hear  the  bellsl 
The  merry  wedding  bells! 
The  little  silver  bells! 
How  fairy-like  a  melody  there  swells 
From  the  silver  tinkling  cells 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bellsl 
Of  the  bells! 

"The  bells!  —  ah,  the  bells! 
The  heavy  iron  bellsl 
Hear  the  tolling  of  the  bells! 

Hear  the  knells! 

How  horrible  a  monody  there  floats 
From  their  throats  — 
From  their  deep- toned  throats! 
How  I  shudder  at  the  notes 

From  the  melancholy  throats 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells! 
Of  the  bells! 

"About  six  months  after  this  we  received  the  poem  enlarged  and  altered 
nearly  to  its  present  size  and  form;  and  about  three  months  since,  the 


264  NOTES 

author  sent  another  alteration  and  enlargement,  in  which  condition 
the  poem  was  left  at  the  time  of  his  death." 

According  to  the  above  the  last  draft  of  "The  Bells "  was  received 
by  Sartain's  Union  Magazine,  about  September,  1849,  at  which  period 
Poe  was  revising  his  writings  at  Richmond,  Virginia.  The  second  draft, 
much  like  the  last,  was  sent  to  the  same  magazine  in  June,  1849,  and 
the  eighteen  lines  about  December,  1848.  In  Gill's  Life  of  Poe,  page  205, 
it  is  stated  that  Poe  composed  and  finished  his  greatest  descriptive  poem 
"The  Bells"  in  the  spring  of  1849,  a  study  of  which  he  had  previously 
made  and  sent  to  Sartain's  Union  Magazine.  Ingram  claims  that  it  was 
the  Summer  of  1848  and  not  the  Autumn  that  Poe  wrote  the  first  draft 
of  "  The  Bells,"  at  Mrs.  Shew's  residence.  Professor  Woodberry's  revised 
Life  of  Poe,  page  295,  volume  ii,  says,  that  according  to  Annie  he  fin 
ished  "The  Bells,"  presumably  the  second  draft,  February  6,  1849,  and 
on  page  388,  that  he  visited  Lowell  the  last  week  in  May,  and  there 
wrote  the  last  draft  of  "The  Bells." 

Poe  in  a  letter  to  Annie,  February  8,  1849,  says,  "The  day  before 
I  wrote  a  poem  considerably  longer  than  'The  Raven.'  I  call  it  'The 
Bells.'  How  I  wish  'Annie'  could  see  it.  I  think  'The  Bells'  will  appear 
in  The  American  Review." 

The  second  draft  of  "The  Bells,"  claimed  as  sent  to  Sartain's  Union 
Magazine,  was  shorter  than  "The  Raven,"  so  upon  Poe's  evidence  the 
longer  draft  was  made  in  February,  1849,  and  it  was  his  intention  to  send 
it  to  the  American  Whig  Review.  F.  W.  Thomas  states  that  he  had  a  manu 
script  copy  of  "The  Bells";  Griswold's,  1850,  differs  from  Sartain's  Union 
Magazine  text,  and  it  would  seem  that  the  claim  that  Poe  left  at  least  four 
manuscript  copies  of  the  poems  is  true.  Only  one  copy,  however,  is  known 
in  America  at  the  present  time,  now  in  the  library  of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan, 
Esq.,  which  lacks  the  last  fourteen  lines.  A  manuscript  printed  in  a  Lon 
don  magazine,  in  facsimile,  is  said  to  be  a  second  copy,  but  does  not  differ 
materially  from  the  American  manuscript.  In  the  original  MS.  the  word 
"  bells"  is  repeated  five  times  in  the  twelfth  line  of  the  first  stanza  and 
twice  in  the  line  following.  The  same  change  is  made  in  the  corresponding 
lines  of  the  next  stanza.  In  the  third  stanza,  sixth  line,  the  word  "  much  " 
is  placed  before  "too."  In  the  fifth  line  from  the  last  of  the  stanza  "clamor" 
was  written  and  "anger"  placed  in  the  last  line.  The  word  "  menace"  in 
the  sixth  line  of  the  fourth  stanza  was  originally  written  "  meaning."  The 
eighth  line  of  this  stanza  was  first  written  "FYom  out  their  ghostly  throats," 
and  the  eleventh  line  changed  twice,  reading  first  "Who  live  up  in  the 


NOTES  265 

Steeple,"  which  was  changed  to  "  They  that  sleep,"  and  finally  "dwell" 
was  printed  instead  of  "  sleep."  After  the  eighteenth  line,  the  following 
line  was  struck  out:  — 

"  But  are  pestilential  carcasses  disparted  from  their  souls." 

For  this  "  They  are  ghouls"  was  substituted.  The  Stedman  and  Wood- 
berry  and  Virginia  Poe  editions  of  the  poems  give  Sartain's  Union 
Magazine  as  their  authorized  text,  but  none  of  them  agree. 

F.  W.  Thomas,  Recollections  of  E.  A.  Poe,  states  that  the  germ  of  this 
poem  like  most  others  was  formed  very  early  in  Poe's  career.  In 
some  manner  Thomas  had  obtained  possession  of  Poe's  early  "Margina 
lia  Book  "  used  by  the  poet  while  engaged  on  the  Southern  Literary  Mes 
senger.  In  a  written  statement  made  to  me  by  John  W.  Fergusson,  an 
apprentice,  employed  on  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  and  who  car 
ried  proof  sheets  to  Poe's  home  and  helped  celebrate  his  marriage  in  Rich 
mond,  it  is  claimed  that  the  book  was  left  at  the  Messenger  office  by 
Poe  and  was  his  property  many  years,  but  went  astray. 

Among  the  clippings  in  this  book  was  one  with  a  reference  to  "Bells" 
which  Poe  afterwards  used  again  in  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine.  This 
clipping  from  Poulson's  Philadelphia  American  Daily  Advertiser  about 
the  Autumn  of  1833  when  Poe  was  engaged  upon  same  is  now  in  my 
possession.  It  is  under  the  heading  of  VARIETIES,  followed  by  the 
quotation:  — 

"Trahit  quod  cunque  potest,  atque  addit  acervo." 

It  reads:  "Bells.  —  Bells  were  first  brought  into  use  by  St.  Paulinus, 
Bishop  of  Nola  (409)  in  the  Campania  of  Rome:  hence  a  bell  was  called 
Nola  or  Campagna.  At  first  they  were  called  saints:  hence  coc-saint,  or 
toe-sin,  in  process  of  time.  But  Pliny  reports  that,  many  ages  before  his 
time  bells  were  in  use,  and  called  Tintin-nabula;  and  Suetonius  says  that 
Augustine  had  one  put  at  the  gate  of  the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  to  call  the 
meeting  of  the  people."  This  was  followed  by  a  paragraph  on  the  use  of 
"  Accents  and  Points." 

Poe  told  Thomas  that  the  "  Chimes  "  by  Dickens  was  his  final  inspira 
tion  to  write  his  poem  of  "The  Bells."  That  story  left  a  deep  impression 
on  his  mind  after  reading  a  copy  sent  him  from  abroad,  and  he  reprinted 
it  entire  into  the  Mirror,  probably  its  first  publication  in  America. 

He  said  :  "  Thomas,  that  ghostly  story  with  beleaguered  phantoms 
and  goblins  —  up,  up,  up,  up,  —  higher,  high,  high,  higher  up  —  haunted 


266  NOTES 

me  day  and  night."  A  bell  never  sounded  in  his  ear  but  he  heard  those 
chimes  —  "high,  high,  higher  up,"  which  afterwards  took  the  form  in  his 
own  poem  of  leaping —  "high,  higher,  higher."  "  Many  a  time,"  continued 
Thomas,  "  after  the  din  and  clamor  of  some  bells  had  died  away  he  would 
say  to  his  wife  Virginia  and  Mrs.  Clemm  —  'I  will  have  to  do  something 
to  get  those  noisy  creatures  out  of  my  way;  they  creep  into  my  brain  — 
confuse  and  disorder  my  ideas.'  " 

He  gave  this  as  an  explanation  for  the  lines  in  the  American  Whig  Re 
new,  of  April,  1845,  in  his  poem  of  "The  Valley  of  Unrest,"  which  he 
afterwards  suppressed:  — 

"They  wave;  they  weep;  and  the  tears  as  they  well 
From  the  depth  of  each  pallid  lily-bell, 
Give  a  trickle  and  a  tinkle  and  a  knell." 

While  the  subject  continually  haunted  his  imagination  Thomas  states 
that  it  only  assumed  definite  shape  early  in  1848.  In  two  early  numbers 
of  the  Union  Magazine,  Poe  had  observed  several  poems  on  "Bells,"  and 
at  once  wrote  a  draft  of  his  own  "  Bells."  When  about  to  send  to  the  Un 
ion  Magazine,  he  noticed  an  editorial  note  in  same,  calling  attention  to  a 
glut  of  manuscript  on  hand  and  suggesting  a  poem  of  twenty  lines.  Then  he 
wrote  a  short  poem  on  "The  Bells"  and  sent  it  in,  but  it  never  appeared. 
He  had  rewritten  the  poem  several  times,  had  offered  it  to  a  number  of 
magazines,  but  was  never  able  to  get  his  price  or  have  it  accepted.  Still 
he  always  retained  the  greatest  faith  in  the  merits  of  the  poem.  Thomas 
did  not  think  that  Sartain's  Union  Magazine  ever  accepted  or  paid  Poe 
for  this  poem. 

John  R.  Thompson,  in  a  notice  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  and 
also  John  M.  Daniel  in  the  Richmond  Examiner,  shortly  after  Poe's 
death,  both  state  that  it  was  the  design  of  Poe,  as  he  himself  told  them,  to 
express  in  language  the  exact  sounds  of  bells  to  the  ear.  They  thought 
that  he  had  succeeded  far  better  than  Southey,  who  attempted  in  a 
similar  feat  to  tell  how  the  waters  "come  down  at  Lodore." 

Mrs.  William  Wiley,  the  daughter  of  Mrs.  Shew,  wrote  me  that  she  re 
members  how  her  mother  told  her  that  Poe  wrote  "The  Bells"  at  her 
home.  When  a  little  girl  going  to  school  she  was  given  some  lessons  on 
Poe,  and  her  mother  gave  her  the  written  lines  of  "The  Bells"  by  Poe, 
to  show  her  teacher.  The  manuscript  was  sold  in  New  York  at  auction 
some  years  ago.  The  lines  read  as  follows  : — 


NOTES  267 

"The  bells!  —  ah,  the  bells! 
The  little  silver  bells! 
How  fairy-like  a  melody  there  floats 

From  their  throats  — 
From  their  merry  little  throats  — 
From  the  silver,  tinkling  throats 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells  — 
Of  the  bells ! 

"The  bells!  —  ah,  the  bells! 
The  heavy  iron  bells. 
How  horrible  a  monody  there  floats 

From  their  throats  — 
From  their  deep-toned  throats  — 
From  their  melancholy  throats! 
How  I  shudder  at  the  notes 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells  — 
Of  the  bells!" 

The  manuscript  of  these  lines  was  sent  by  Mrs.  Shew  to  Mr.  J.  H. 
Ingram,  of  London,  who,  in  his  Life  of  Poe,  states  :  "Poe  wrote  the  first 
rough  draft  of '  The  Bells '  at  Mrs.  Shew's  residence. '  One  day  he  came  in,' 
she  records  in  her  diary,  and  said,  'Marie  Louise,  I  have  to  write  a  poem;  I 
have  no  feeling,  no  sentiment,  no  inspiration!'  His  hostess  persuaded 
him  to  have  some  tea.  It  was  served  in  the  conservatory,  the  windows  of 
which  were  open,  and  admitted  the  sound  of  neighboring  church  bells. 
Mrs.  Shew  said  playfully,  '  Here  is  paper,'  but  the  poet  declining  it  de 
clared,  'I  so  dislike  the  noise  of  bells  to-night,  I  cannot  write,  I  have  no  sub 
ject  —  I  am  exhausted! '  The  lady  then  took  up  the  pen,  and  pretending 
to  mimic  his  style,  wrote,  'The  Bells  by  E.  A.  Poe,'  and  then  in  pure  spor- 
tiveness,  'The  Bells,  the  little  silver  bells,'  finishing  off  the  stanza.  She 
then  suggested  for  the  next  verse  'The  heavy  iron  bells  ! '  and  this  Poe 
also  expanded  into  a  stanza.  He  next  copied  out  the  complete  poem  and 
headed  it,  'By  Mrs.  M.  L.  Shew,1  remarking  that  it  was  her  poem,  as  she 
had  composed  so  much  of  it.  Mrs.  Shew  continues,  '  My  brother  came 
in,  and  I  sent  him  to  Mrs.  Clemm  to  tell  her  that  "  her  boy  would  stay 
in  town,  and  was  well."  My  brother  took  Mr.  Poe  to  his  own  room, 
where  he  slept  twelve  hours,  and  could  hardly  recall  the  evening's 
work.' " 


268  NOTES 

TO  M.  L.  S 

Foe's  MS.  To  Mrs.  M.  L.  S.,  February  14,  1847.    Borne  Journal, 
March  13, 1847. 

Text,  Home  Journal. 
Variations  in  MS.  from  text :  — 
2.  Thine:  thy. 
9.  Lying :  Laying  them. 
14.  Resembles:  approaches. 

Notes :  The  poem  was  introduced  in  the  Home  Journal  as  follows:  — 
"The  following  seems  said  over  a  hand  clasped  in  the  speaker's  two.  It 
is  by  Edgar  A.  Poe,  and  is  evidently  the  pouring  out  of  a  very  deep  feel 
ing  of  gratitude."  The  poem  was  sent  to  Mrs.  Marie  Louise  Shew.  The 
manuscript  copy  dated  February  14, 1847,  is  still  in  the  possession  of  her 
daughter,  Mrs.  William  Wiley,  and  was  used  in  making  comparisons  of 
the  text. 


Columbian  Magazine,  March,  1848. 

Text,  Columbian  Magazine. 

Notes :  The  tenth  line  of  this  poem  is  spoken  by  Lalage  in  "  Politian," 
and  some  portions  of  "  Israfel "  are  in  lines  fourteen  and  fifteen. 

Poe  sent  a  MS.  copy  of  this  poem  to  Mrs.  Shew.  The  first  seven  lines 
follow  the  text. 

TO  MARIE  LOUISE 

Two  gentle  sounds  made  only  to  be  murmured 

By  angels  dreaming  in  the  moon-lit  "  dew 

That  hangs  like  chains  of  pearl  on  Hermon  hill" 

Have  stirred  from  out  the  abysses  of  my  heart 

Unthought-like  thoughts  —  scarcely  the  shades  of  thought  — 

Bewildering  fantasies  —  far  richer  visions 

Than  even  the  seraph  harper,  Israfel, 

Who  "had  the  sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures," 

Would  hope  to  utter.  Ah,  Marie  Louise! 

In  deep  humility  I  own  that  now 

All  pride  —  all  thought  of  power  —  all  hopes  of  fame  — 


NOTES  269 

All  wish  for  Heaven  —  is  merged  forevermore 

Beneath  the  palpitating  tide  of  passion 

Heaped  o'er  my  soul  by  thee.  Its  spells  are  broken  — 

The  pen  falls  powerless  from  my  shivering  hand  — 

With  that  dear  name  as  text  I  cannot  write  — 

I  cannot  speak  —  I  cannot  even  think  — 

Alas  I  I  cannot  feel;  for  't  is  not  feeling  — 

This  standing  motionless  upon  the  golden 

Threshold  of  the  wide-open  gates  of  Dreams, 

Gazing,  entranced,  adown  the  gorgeous  vista, 

And  thrilling  as  I  see  upon  the  right  — 

Upon  the  left  —  and  all  the  way  along, 

Amid  the  clouds  of  glory:  far  away 

To  where  the  prospect  terminates  —  thee  only. 


SONNET  (AN  ENIGMA) 

Sonnet,  Union  Magazine,  March,  1848;  Griswold,  1850  (An  Enigma). 

Text,  Union  Magazine. 
Variation  of  Griswold  from  the  text :  — 
10.  Petrar chanities :  tuckermanities. 

Note :  The  first  letter  of  the  first  line,  the  second  letter  of  the  second 
line,  etc.,  form  the  name  Sarah  Anna  Lewis. 

This  poem  was  sent  to  Mrs.  Lewis  (Stella)  in  November,  1847,  and 
Griswold's  text  follows  that  manuscript. 


"  To  Helen,"  Griswold,"i8so.  "  The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America," 
1855.  Union  Magazine,  November,  1848. 

Text,  Union  Magazine. 

Variations  of  Griswold  from  text :  — 

26.  Insert  after  me  :  (Oh  Heaven!  oh,  God!  How  my  heart  beats  in 
coupling  those  two  words!) 

Notes :  It  is  claimed  that  the  lines  given  by  Griswold  were  omitted 
from  the  Union  Magazine,  without  Poe's  authority.  There  appears  no 
direct  evidence  for  this  however.  The  authority  for  Griswold's  text 
is  not  found  —  likewise  his  title  "To  Helen."  He  discarded  his  early 


27O  NOTES 

text,  and  followed  that  of  the  Union  Magazine  in  revising  his  later  edition 
of  "  The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America." 

Poe  is  presumed  to  have  sent  the  lines  for  publication  in  the  following 
letter  to  Bayard  Taylor,  June  15,  1848:  "I  would  feel  greatly  indebted 
to  you  if  you  could  spare  the  time  to  look  over  the  lines  enclosed  and 
let  me  know  whether  they  will  be  accepted  for  'the  Union,'  —  if  so 
what  you  can  afford  to  pay  for  them  and  when  they  can  appear." 

This  poem  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Sarah  Helen  Whitman.  In  the 
Union  Magazine,  line  eighteen,  the  word  "  see  "  is  printed  for  "  saw." 


A  VALENTINE  TO 

Flag  of  Our  Union,  March  3,  1849;  Sartain's  Union  Magazine,  March, 
1849- 

Text,  F lag  of  Our  Union. 

Variations  of  Sartain's  Union  Magazine  from  the  text:  — 
I.  These  lines  are  :  this  rhyme  is. 

4.  This :  the. 

5.  This  rhyme,  which  holds:  the  lines!  —  they  hold. 
8.  Letters  themselves:  Syllables! 

12.  Understand :  comprehend. 

13.  This  page  whereon :  the  leaf  where  now. 

14.  Eyes  scintillating  soul,  there  lie  perdus. 

IS-  A.  well-known  name :  Three  eloquent  words. 
Notes:  The  text  is  followed  by  the  words  "Valentine  Eve,  1849." 
A  manuscript  copy  among  the  Griswold  papers  is  as  follows:  — 


TO 


For  her  these  lines  are  penned,  whose  luminous  eyes, 

Bright  and  expressive  as  the  stars  of  Leda, 
Shall  find  her  own  sweet  name,  that,  nestling,  lies 

Upon  this  page,  enwrapped  from  every  reader. 
Search  narrowly  these  words,  which  hold  a  treasure 

Divine  —  a  talisman  —  an  amulet 
That  must  be  worn  at  heart.  Search  well  the  measure  — 

The  words  —  the  letters  themselves.  Do  not  forget 


NOTES  271 

The  smallest  point,  or  you  may  lose  your  labor. 

And  yet  there  is  in  this  no  Gordian  knot 
Which  one  might  not  undo  without  a  sabre 

If  one  could  merely  comprehend  the  plot. 
Upon  the  open  page  on  which  are  peering 

Such  sweet  eyes  now,  there  lies,  I  say,  perdu 
A  musical  name  oft  uttered  in  the  hearing 

Of  poets,  by  poets  —  for  the  name  is  a  poet's  too. 
In  common  sequence  set,  the  letters  lying, 

Compose  a  sound  delighting  all  to  hear  — 
Ah,  this  you'd  have  no  trouble  in  descrying 

Were  you  not  something  of  a  dunce,  my  dear:  — 
And  now  I  leave  these  riddles  to  their  Seer. 
Saturday,  Feb.  14,  46. 

The  name  Frances  Sargent  Osgood  is  spelled  incorrectly  in  the  above 
lines.  Another  MS.  copy  in  the  Griswold  collection  dated  Valentine's 
Eve,  1848,  shows  the  following  variations  from  the  above:  — 

A  Valentine :  By  Edgar  A.  Poe.  To : 

1.  these  lines:  this  rhyme. 

2.  Bright,  stars,  Leda:  Brightly,  twins  Lceda. 

4.  this :  the. 

5.  words,  which :  lines,  they. 

8.  the  letters  themselves:  the  syllables. 

9.  smallest :  trivialest. 

13.  Enwritten  upon  the  leaf  where  now  are  peering. 

14.  Eyes  scintillating  soul,  their  lie  perdus. 

15.  A  musical  name:  Three  eloquent  words. 

After  16:  — 

Its  letters,  although  naturally  lying 

(Like  the  knight  Pinto  —  Mendez  Ferdinando  — ) 

Still  form  a  synonym  for  Truth.  —  cease  trying! 

You  will  not  read  the  riddle  though  you  do  the  best  you  can  do. 

The  following  foreword  appeared  in  the  Flag  of  Our  Union  :  — 

"At  a  Valentine  Soiree,  in  New  York,  the  following  enigmatical  lines 

were  received,  among  others,  and  read  aloud  to  the  company.  The  verses 

were  enclosed  in  an  envelope,  addressed  'TO  HER  WHOSE  NAME  IS 

WRITTEN  WITHIN.'  As  no  lady  present  could  so  read  the  riddle  as 


272  NOTES 

to  find  her  name  written  in  it  the  Valentine  remained,  and  still  remains, 
unclaimed.  Can  any  of  our  readers  of  the  Flag  discover  for  whom  it  is 
intended  ?  " 

After  the  poem  was  the  following  note:  "Should  there  be  no  solution 
furnished  of  the  above,  we  will  give  the  key  next  week." 

It  is  evident  that  none  of  the  readers  sent  in  any  answers,  f  r  in  the 
issue  of  March  10  appears  the  following:  — 

"The  Key  to  the  Valentine. 

"To  transcribe  the  address  of  the  Valentine  which  appeared  in  our  last 
paper  from  the  pen  of  Edgar  A.  Poe,  read  the  first  letter  of  the  first  line 
In  connection  with  the  second  letter  of  the  second  line,  the  third  letter 
of  the  third  line,  the  fourth  of  the  fourth,  and  so  on  to  the  end.  The  name 
of  our  contributor  Frances  Sargent  Osgood  will  appear." 


FOR  ANNIE 

Flag  of  Our  Union,  April  28,  1849;  Home  Journal,  April  38, 1849:  Poe 
MS.  Griswold,  1850 ;  "The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,"  1855.  Rich 
mond  Examiner,  October,  1849. 

Text,  Richmond  Examiner,   . 

Variations  from  the  text : — 

II.  I.  Sadly  I  know  I  am.  MS.;  F.  0.  U. 

Transpose  stanzas  IV  and  V,  MS.;  F.  0.  U. 

IV.  3.  Are  quieted  now  with,  MS.;  Are  quieted  now;  and  the,  F.  0.  U. 

4.  That:  the.  MS.;  Horrible  throbbing,  F.  O.  U. 

5.  Ah:  Oh.  MS.;0,  F.  O.  U. 

VI.  i.  OA:Ah.  MS.;F.  O.  U. 

6.  Passion:  Glory.  MS.;  F.  O.  U. 

VII.  3.  Spring:  Fountain.  F.  O.  U. 

VIII.  I.  But:  And.  H.  J.;  Gr.;  P.  P.  A. 
And  ah!  let  it  never  be.  MS.;  F.  0.  U. 

2.  Be:  out.  MS.;  and  F.  O.  U. 

7.  Sleep:  italics  out  except  Gr.;  P.  P.  A. 

IX.  i.  My  tantalized  spirit  here.  MS. 
X.  2.  It. •!.  US. 

3.  A  holier  odor  about  me.  MS. 

4.  Of  pansy.  MS. 

6.  Pansies :  pansy.  MS. 


NOTES  273 

XI.  I  Mt:  I.  MS. 

3.  Truth:  love.  MS.;  F.  0.  U. 

XII.  5.  Deeply  to  sleep  from  the.  MS.;  F.  0.  U. 

6.  From  the:  out.  MS.;  F.  O.  U. 
XIV    3-7.  Omit  parenthesis.  F.  O.  U. 

XV. 'a.  In:  of.  All  others  except  Gr. ;  Stars  of  the  Heaven — for  it. 
MS. 

5-  Light:  though.  MS.;  fire.  F.  O.  U. 

A  manuscript  copy  of  "For  Annie"  was  sold  at  the  Pierce  sale  in 
Philadelphia,  May  6,  1903.  "Annie"  was  Mrs.  Richmond  of  Lowell, 
Massachusetts. 

Poe  complained  that  the  Flag  of  Our  Union  misprinted  the  lines,  for 
which  reason  he  sent  a  corrected  copy  to  the  Home  Journal.  They  seem, 
however,  to  have  been  published  simultaneously.  Poe  sent  to  Mrs. 
Richmond  a  portion  of  his  poem  "A  Dream  Within  A  Dream,"  headed 
"For  Annie."  In  his  last  revision  of  this  poem  he  also  changed  the 
title,  "To ."  and  unquestionably  addressed  the  poem  to  "Annie." 

SONNET  — TO  MY  MOTHER 

FlagofOur  Union,  July  7,  "To  My  Mother,"  1849;  Richmond  Examiner, 
October,  1849;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  December,  1849;  Leafieti 
of  Memory,  Philadelphia,  1850;  Griswold,  1850. 

Text,  Southern  Literary  Messenger. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

1.  The  angels:  I  feel  that.  F.  O.  U.;  Gr. 

2.  Devoutly  singing  unto:  The  angels  whispering  to.  F.  0.  U.;  Gr. 

3.  Amid:  among.  F.  0.  U.;  Gr. 
5.  Sweet:  dear.  Gr. 

7.  Filling:  And  fill;  God:  Death,  F.  0.  U.;  Gr. 
9.  My:  Omit  italics.  F.  O.  U.;  Gr. 

U.  dead:  one.  F.  O.  U.;  Gr. 

12.  And  thus  are  dearer  than  the  mother  I  knew.  F.  0.  U.;  Gr. 
Notes:  This  poem  refers  to  his  mother-in-law,  who  was  also  his 
aunt  —  Mrs.  Clemm.  The  Examiner  text  follows  the  Southern  Literary 
Messenger.  The  Leaflets  of  Memory  has  one  change  in  punctuation.  The 
sonnet  is  introduced  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  as  follows: 
"One  of  the  most  touching  of  the  compositions  of  poor  Poe  is  the  Sonnet 
to  his  Mother-in-law.  It  bears  the  impress  of  sincere  feeling,  and  seems 


274  NOTES 

to  have  been  written  in  bis  better  moments,  when  his  spirit  returning 
from ' the  misty  mid-regions  of  Weir'  and  the  companions  of  Ghouls,  be 
trayed  that  touch  of  nature  which  makes  the  whole  world  kin." 


ELDORADO 

Flag  of  Our  Union,  April  21,  1849;  Griswold,  1850. 

Text,  Flag  of  Our  Union. 

Note :  The  Griswold  text  shows  no  changes.  A  reference  is  made  in 
the  poem  "Dream-Land"  to  "Eldorado." 

ANNABEL  LEE 

New  York  Tribune,  October  9,  1849;  Richmond  Examiner,  October, 
1849;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  November,  1849;  Sartain's  Union 
Magazine,  January,  1850,  with  sub-title  "A  Ballad";  Griswold,  1850; 
"The Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,"  1855;  Poe  MS. 
Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

II.  i.  She  .  .  .1:   I .  .  .  She.  T.  Gr.  MS.  and  1850.  No  italics  in 
S.  U.  M. 

5.  Of;  in.  T.  and  Gr.  MS. 

III.  3.  By  night:  chilling.  T.  Gr.  MS.  and  1850.  S.  U,  M. 

4.  dulling:  My  beautiful.  T.  Gr.  MS.  and  1850.   S.  U.M. 

5.  Kinsman;  S.  U.  M.;  Gr.  1850. 

IV.  S-  Chilling:  by  night.  T.  Gr.  MS.  and  1850.  S.  U.  M. 

6.  And:  chilling.  T.  Gr.  MS.  and  1850.  S.  U.  M. 

VI.  3.  See:  feel,  all  others  except  S.  L.  M.;  S.  U.  M.;  MS.,  feel: 

6.  My  life ;  omit  italics  all  others. 

7.  Her;  the.  Gr.  1850. 

8.  Sounding:  side  of.  S.  L.  M.;  S.  U.  M.;  R.  E. 
Note  in  Sartain's  Union  Magazine  with  the  poem:  — 

"In  the  December  number  of  our  magazine  we  announced  that  we 
had  another  poem  of  Mr.  Poe's  in  hand,  which  we  would  publish  in  Jan 
uary.  We  supposed  it  to  be  his  last,  as  we  had  received  it  from  him  a 
short  time  before  his  decease.  The  sheet  containing  our  announcement 
was  scarcely  dry  from  the  press,  before  we  saw  the  poem,  which  we  had 
bought  and  paid  for,  going  the  rounds  of  the  newspaper  press,  into  which 
it  had  found  its  way  through  some  agency  that  will  perhaps  be  hereafter 


NOTES  275 

explained.  It  appeared  first,  we  believe,  in  the  New  York  Tribune.  If 
we  are  not  misinformed,  two  other  Magazines  are  in  the  same  predica 
ment  as  ourselves.  As  the  poem  is  one  highly  characteristic  of  the  gifted 
and  lamented  author,  and  more  particularly,  as  our  copy  of  it  differs  in 
several  places  from  that  which  has  been  already  published,  we  have  con 
cluded  to  give  it  as  already  announced." 

Notes :  Poe's  manuscript  from  which  Sartain's  Union  Magazine  printed 
the  poem  is  now  in  the  library  of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  Esq.  of  New  York 
city.  It  is  written  on  two  sheets  of  blue  glazed  paper  ruled  and  pasted 
together.  On  the  back  is  written  in  Professor  Hart's  hand  "Is  paid." 
"This  was  the  price  paid  by  Sartain's  Union  Magazine  when  it  was 
accepted  and  published  in  1850  (J.  S.  Hart,  Editor)."  These  comments 
throw  some  obscurity  upon  the  previous  remarks  of  the  editor  of  Sartain's 
Union  Magazine  when  the  poem  was  published  in  January,  1850,  wherein 
it  is  intimated  that  they  bought  and  paid  Poe  himself  for  the  poem.  This 
was  an  impossibility  in  1850  as  Poe  died  in  1849.  The  statement  in 
Sartain's  Union  Magazine  has  often  been  used  to  reflect  on  Poe's  char 
acter,  and  it  now  seems  unwarranted.  , 

F.  W.  Thomas,  who  was  conversant  with  many  of  Poe's  as  well  as  Mrs. 
Clemm's  affairs,  states  that  "Poe  was  never  paid  for  the  poem  by  Sar 
tain's  Union  Magazine."  It  seems  unlikely  that  Poe  would  have  parted 
with  the  poem  for  $5.  In  a  letter  to  Griswold  in  1849  (no  date)  he  asks 
if  he  cannot  sell  "Annabel  Lee"  to  Graham's  or  Godey  for  $50,  before 
same  appeared  in  his  book.  Sartain's  Union  Magazine  acknowledged 
holding  the  poem  nearly  four  months,  and  it  now  seems  doubtful  if  it  was 
ever  accepted  or  paid  for. 

The  original  manuscript  also  shows  that  the  editor  of  Sartain's  Union 
Magazine  did  not  use  Poe's  punctuation,  italics,  or  capital  letters.  Fur 
thermore,  that  he  printed  the  word  "kinsman"  which  reads  plainly 
"kinsmen."  The  November,  1849,  Southern  Literary  Messenger  published 
"Annabel  Lee"  with  the  statement  that  the  manuscnpt  was  handed 
in  by  Poe  the  day  before  he  left  Richmond.  This  manuscript  also 
shows  that  the  Messenger  failed  to  follow  Poe's  punctuation.  It  has 
been  thought  that  Griswold  used  a  manuscript  of  Poe  for  his  text  of  1850, 
but  it  is  now  evident  that  he  merely  copied  from  Sartain's  Union  Maga- 
tine,  following  the  error  there  and  printing  "kinsman  "  for  "kinsmen" 
and  using  "  the  "  sepulchre  for  "  her  "  sepulchre  as  Poe  always  wrote  same 
in  all  his  manuscripts  of  the  poem.  This  seems  strange  when  the  fact  is 
known  that  Griswold  had  at  that  time  a  manuscript  of  the  poem  in  Poe's 


276  NOTES 

own  hand,  which  he  did  not  use  until  later  in  his  "Poets  and  Poetry  of 
America,"  and  then  did  not  follow  the  text  accurately. 

Of  the  three  known  manuscript  copies  of  "Annabel  Lee,"  that  of  the 
Southern  Literary  Messenger  closely  follows  the  text.  Poe  gave  away 
the  Thome  MS.  before  leaving  New  York,  in  June,  1849,  the  Griswold 
copy  was  forwarded  by  mail  in  1849  (no  date),  and  he  gave  the  Southern 
Literary  Messenger  copy  to  John  R.  Thompson  the  day  previous  to 
leaving  Richmond,  September  27, 1849. 

TJLALUME— -A  BALLAD 

American  Whig  Review  ("To ."  "Ulalume":  A  Bal- 

lad),  December,  1847;  Home  Journal,  January  i,  1848;  Literary  World 
("Ulalume."  A  Ballad),  March  3, 1849;  Richmond  Examiner,  October, 
$849;  Poe  MS.,  1849;  "The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,"  1855. 
Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 

Variations  from  the  text  follow ;  — 

II.  4.  Days  :  the  days.  L.  W. 

VI.  4.  Ah:  Oh.   All  others  except  MS. 

5.  Ah;  Oh.    All  others  except  MS. 
VII.  9.  Surely;  safely.   All  others  except  MS. ' 
VIII.  5.  But:  And.    A.  W.  R. 

IX.  9.  Ah;  Oh.    A.  W.  R.;  hath :  has.  All  others  except  MS. 
13.  JAw. -In  the.    A.iW.  R. 
X.  7.  Have;  Had.    All  others  except  MS. 

Notes :  Griswold,  1850,  omits  "  We  "  in  III.  9  and  the  entire  tenth  stanza 
with  other  slight  variations  from  the  text.  In  his  "Poets  and  Poetry  of 
America,"  text  of  1855  he  used  the  tenth  stanza,  and  follows  the  American 
Whig  Review  with  the  exception  of  VII.  10,  where  "Have"  is  used  for 
"Had"  —  one  of  Poe's  last  corrections. 

Poe  wrote  to  the  Editor  of  the  Home  Journal,  December  8,  1847,  as 
follows:  — 

"I  send  you  an  American  Review  —  the  number  just  issued  —  in  which 
is  a  ballad  by  myself ,  but  published  anonymously.  It  is  called 'Ulalume' 
• —  the  page  is  turned  down.  I  do  not  care  to  be  known  as  its  author  just 
now;  but  would  take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  you  would  copy  it  in  the  H.  /., 
with  a  word  of  inquiry  as  to  who  wrote  it:  —  provided  always  that  you 
think  the  poem  worth  the  room  it  would  occupy  in  your  paper  —  a 
matter  about  which  I  am  by  no  means  sure." 


NOTES  277 

The  poem  appeared  January  i,  1848,  with  the  following  comment: 
"We  do  not  know  how  many  readers  we  have  who  will  enjoy,  as  we  do, 
the  following  exquisitely  piquant  and  skilful  exercise  of  variety  and  nice- 
ness  of  language.  It  is  a  poem  which  we  find  in  the  American  Review,  full 
of  beauty  and  oddity  in  sentiment  and  versification,  but  a  curiosity 
(and  a  delicious  one,  we  think)  in  philologic  flavor.  Who  is  the  author?" 

Poe  wrote  E.  A.  Duyckinck  of  the  Literary  World  February  16,  1849: 
"Perhaps  in  the  conversation  I  had  with  you  in  your  office  about  'Ula- 
lume,'  I  did  not  make  you  comprehend  precisely  what  was  the  request 
I  made:  so  to  save  trouble  I  send  now  the  enclosed  from  the  Providence 
Daily  Journal.  If  you  will  oblige  me  by  copying  the  slip  as  it  stands, 
prefacing  it  by  the  words  'From  the  Providence  Journal'  it  will  make 
everything  straight."  The  Literary  World  printed  the  poem  March  3, 
1849,  with  the  following  note:  — 

"The  following  fascinating  poem,  which  is  from  the  pen  of  EDGAR  A. 
POE,  has  been  drifting  about  the  newspapers  under  anonymous  or  mis 
taken  imputation  of  authorship,  —  having  been  attributed  to  N.  P. 
WILLIS.  We  now  restore  it  to  its  proper  owner.  It  originally  appeared 
without  name  in  the  American  Review.  In  peculiarity  of  versification, 
and  a  certain  cold  moonlight  witchery,  it  has  much  of  the  power  of  the 
author's  'Raven.'" 

In  the  review  of  H.  B.  Hirst  (Griswold,  1850),  Poe  states:  "To  my 
face,  and  in  the  presence  of  my  friends,  Mr.  H.  has  always  made  a  point 
of  praising'my  own  poetical  efforts;  and,  for  this  reason,  I  should  forgive 
him,  perhaps  the  amiable  weakness  of  abusing  them  anonymously.  In 
a  late  number  of  '  The  Philadelphia  Courier,'  he  does  me  the  honor  of 
attributing  to  my  pen  a  ballad  called  '  Ulalume,'  which  has  been  going 
the  rounds  of  the  press,  sometimes  with  my  name  to  it;  sometimes  with 
Mr.  Willis's,  and  sometimes  with  no  name  at  all.  Mr.  Hirst  insists  upon 
it  that  /  wrote  it,  and  it  is  just  possible  that  he  knows  more  about  the 
matter  than  I  do  myself.  Speaking  of  a  particular  passage  he  says:  'We 
have  spoken  of  the  mystical  appearance  of  Astarte  as  a  fine  touch  of 
art.  This  is  borrowed,  and  from  the  first  canto  of  Hirst's  "Endymion" 
.  .  .  published  years  since  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger :'  — 

'Slowly  Endymion  bent,  the  light  Elysian 

Flooding  his  figure.  Kneeling  on  one  knee. 
He  loosed  his  sandals,  lea 
And  lake  and  woodland  glittering  on  his  vision  — 


278  NOTES 

A  fairy  landscape,  bright  and  beautiful, 
With  Venus  at  her  full.'  " 

Astarte  is  another  name  for  Venus;  and  when  we  remember  that  Diana 
is  about  to  descend  to  Endymion  —  that  the  scene  which  is  about  to 
follow  is  one  of  love  —  that  Venus  is  the  star  of  love  —  and  that  Hirst, 
by  introducing  it  as  he  does,  shadows  out  his  story  exactly  as  Mr.  Poe 
introduces  his  Astarte  —  the  plagiarism  of  idea  becomes  evident.  Poe 
quotes  the  fourth  stanza  of  "Ulalume"  and  regrets  that  he  finds  no 
resemblance  between  the  two  passages  in  question.  He  then  quotes 
four  lines  from  "Lenore,"  which  he  charges  Hirst  with  using  in  his  "The 
Penance  of  Roland,"  and  concludes:  "Many  a  lecture,  on  literary  topics, 
have  I  given  Mr.  H.;  and  I  confess  that  in  general  he  has  adopted  my 
advice  so  implicitly  that  his  poems,  upon  the  whole,  are  little  more  than 
our  conversations  done  into  verse." 

Mrs.  S.  H.  Whitman  in  a  letter  to  the  New  York  Tribune  dated  Provi 
dence,  September  29, 1875,  in  answer  to  F.  G.  Fairfield's  "A  Mad  Man  of 
Letters,"  makes  the  following  reference  to  "Ulalume  ":  — 

"The  gist  of  the  poem  is  Venus  'Astarte'  —  the  crescent  star  of  hope 
and  love  that,  after  a  night  of  horror,  was  seen  in  the  constellation  of 
Leo :  — 

'Coming  up  through  the  lair  of  the  Lion 
As  the  star  dials  hinted  of  morn.' 

The  forlorn  heart  might  have  been  seen  hailing  it  as  a  harbinger  of 
happiness  yet  to  be,  hoping  against  hope,  until,  when  the  planet  was 
seen  to  be  rising  over  the  tomb  of  a  lost  love,  hope  itself  rejected  as  a  cruel 
mockery,  and  the  dark  angel  conquered.  There  might  also  be  discerned 
in  this  strange  and  splendid  phantasy  something  of  that  ethical  quality 
found  by  an  eloquent  interpreter  of  Poe's  genius  in  the  July  British 
Quarterly.  Like  the  'Epipsychidion '  of  Shelley,  it  is  a  poem  for  poets 
and  will  not  readily  give  up  'the  heart  of  the  mystery.'  " 

Mrs.  Whitman  claimed  that  the  last  stanza  of  the  poem  was  suppressed 
by  Poe  at  her  suggestion.  This  was  probably  Griswold's  authority  for 
leaving  out  that  stanza  in  the  1850  volume  ;  but  it  is  to  be  noted  that 
he  afterwards  found  out  his  mistake  and  replaced  same  in  his  later  publi 
cations.  All  Poe's  publications  of  the  poem,  show  the  concluding  stanza, 
and  in  the  later  revision  of  the  poem  he  made  two  corrections  in  that 
stanza.  There  is  no  evidence  to  indicate  a  suppression. 

A  manuscript  copy  of  the  poem,  including  the  last  verse  written  by 


NOTES  279 

Poe  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1849,  is  in  the  library  of  J.  Pierpont 
Morgan,  Esq.,  of  New  York  city.  This  manuscript  was  given  by  the 
poet  to  Miss  Susan  Ingram  at  Old  Point,  Virginia,  during  September, 
1849,  with  the  following  letter:  "I  have  transcribed  'Ulalume'  with 
much  pleasure,  Dear  Miss  Ingram  —  as  I  am  sure  I  would  do  anything 
else  at  your  bidding  —  but  I  fear  you  will  find  the  verses  scarcely  more 
intelligible  to-day  in  my  manuscript  than  last  night  in  my  recitation.  I 
would  endeavor  to  explain  to  you  what  I  really  meant  —  or  what  I 
fancied  I  meant  by  the  poem,  if  it  were  not  that  I  remembered  Dr. 
Johnson's  bitter  and  rather  just  remark  about  the  folly  of  explaining 
what,  if  worth  explanation,  would  explain  itself.  He  has  a  happy 
witticism,  too,  about  some  book  which  he  calls  '  as  obscure  as  an  explana 
tory  note.'  Leaving  'Ulalume1  to  its  fate,  therefore,  and  in  good  hands, 
I  am,  yours  truly." 

In  an  article  by  Mrs.  Cove-Nichols,  published  in  the  Sixpenny  Maga 
zine,  February,  1863,  reference  is  made  to  a  poem  sent  to  Colton,  editor 
of  the  American  Whig  Review,  by  Poe  prior  to  the  summer  of  1846,  as 
follows:  — 

"We  had  already  read  the  poem  in  conclave,  and  Heaven  forgive  us, 
we  could  not  make  head  or  tail  to  it.  It  might  as  well  have  been  in  any 
of  the  lost  languages,  for  any  meaning  we  could  extract  from  its  melodi 
ous  numbers.  I  remember  saying  that  I  believed  it  was  a  hoax  that  Poe 
was  passing  off  for  poetry,  to  see  how  far  his  name  would  go  in  imposing 
upon  people.  The  poem  was  paid  for  and  published  soon  after.  I  pre 
sume  it  is  regarded  as  genuine  poetry  in  the  collected  poems  of  its  author." 

Her  words  would  seem  to  apply  to  "Ulalume,"  but  the  poem  did  not 
appear  in  the  Whig  Review  until  the  last  of  1847.  It  may  be  possible  that 
Mrs.  Cove-Nichols  had  her  dates  mixed  up. 


TAMERLANE 

1827,  1829,  1831,  1845. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  of  1829  and  1831  from  the  text ;  — 
3.  Deem  ;  think.   1831. 
26.  Insert  after:  — 

Despair,  the  fabled  vampire  bat, 
Hath  long  upon  my  bosom  sat, 


28O  NOTES 

And  I  would  rave,  but  that  he  flings 
A  calm  from  his  unearthly  wings.    1831. 

30.  Fierce:  Omit.  1831. 
40.  //aw;  Hath.  1831. 

57.  Was  giant-like  —  so  thou  my  mind.  1829;  1831. 
73.  This  iron  heart ;  that  as  infinite.  1831. 
74   My  soul;  so  was  the  weakness  in  it.  1831. 
Insert  after:  — 

For  in  those  days  it  was  my  lot 

To  haunt  of  the  wide  world  a  spot 

The  which  I  could  not  love  the  less. 

So  lovely  was  the  loneliness 

Of  a  wild  lake  with  black  rock  bound, 

And  the  sultan-like  pines  that  tower'd  around  I 

But  when  the  night  had  thrown  her  pall 

Upon  that  spot  as  upon  all, 

And  the  black  wind  murmur'd  by, 

In  a  dirge  of  melody; 

My  infant  spirit  would  awake 

To  the  terror  of  that  lone  lake. 

Yet  that  terror  was  not  fright  — 
But  a  tremulous  delight  — 
A  feeling  not  the  jewell'd  mine 
Could  ever  bribe  me  to  define, 
Nor  love,  Ada!  tho'  it  were  thine.^ 
How  could  I  from  that  water  bring 
Solace  to  my  imagining  ? 
My  solitary  soul  —  how  make 
An  Eden  of  that  dim  lake  ? 

But  then  a  gentler,  calmer  spell, 
Like  moonlight  on  my  spirit  fell, 
And  O!  I  have  no  words  to  tell.  1831. 

77.  Nor  would  I ;  I  will  not.  1831. 

81.  Thus  1:1  well.  1831. 

82.  Some  page :  Pages.  1831, 


NOTES  28l 

86.  Oh,  she  was:  Was  she  not.  1831. 

106.  Throw  me  on  her  throbbing :  lean  upon  her  gentle.  1831. 

no.  Her:  hers.  1831. 

112-115.  Omit.  1831. 

119.  Its  joy  —  its  little  lot :  of  pleasure  or.  1831. 

1 20    Thai  was  new  pleasure  :  The  good,  the  bad.  1831. 

128-138.  Omit.  1831. 

151.  On  her  bright:  upon  her.  1831. 

152.  To  become:  fitted  for.  1831. 
164.  His  :  its.  1831. 
166-177. 

Say,  holy  father,  breathes  there  yet 

A  rebel  or  a  Bajazet  ? 

How  now!  why  tremble,  man  of  gloom, 

As  if  my  words  were  the  Simoom! 

Why  do  the  people  bow  the  knee, 

To  the  young  Tamerlane  —  to  me!    1831. 

2O2.  Splendor :  beauty.  1831. 

207-212.  Omit. 

For  213-221  substitute:  — 

I  reach' d  my  home  —  what  home?  above 
My  home  —  my  hope  —  my  early  love, 
Lonely,  like  me,  the  desert  rose, 
Bow'd  down  with  its  own  glory  grows.    1831* 

335    Unpolluted :  undefined.  1831. 
243.  Insert  after:  — 

If  my  peace  hath  flown  away 
In  a  night  —  or  in  a  day  —     . 
In  a  vision  —  or  in  none  — 
Is  it,  therefore,  the  less  gone  ? 
I  was  standing  'mid  the  roar 
Of  a  wind-beaten  shore,          / 
And  I  held  within  my  hand    • 
Some  particles  of  sand  — 
How  bright!  And  yet  to  creep 
Thro'  my  fingers  to  the  deep! 


?82  NOTES 

My  early  hopes  ?  no  —  they 
Went  gloriously  away, 
Like  lightning  from  the  sky  — - 
Why  in  the  battle  did  not  I  ? 
The  first  1827  version  follows:  — 

TAMERLANE 

I 

I  have  sent  for  thee,  holy  friar;  (*) 
But  "t  was  not  with  the  drunken  hope, 
Which  is  but  agony  of  desire 
To  shun  the  fate,  with  which  to  cope 
Is  more  than  crime  may  dare  to  dream, 
That  I  have  call'd  thee  at  this  hour: 
Such,  father,  is  not  my  theme  — 
Nor  am  I  mad,  to  deem  that  power 
Of  earth  may  shrive  me  of  the  sin 
Unearthly  pride  hath  revell'd  in  — 
I  would  not  call  thee  fool,  old  man, 
But  hope  is  not  a  gift  of  thine; 
If  I  can  hope  (O  God!  I  can) 
It  falls  from  an  eternal  shrine. 


The  gay  wall  of  this  gaudy  tower 
Grows  dim  around  me  —  death  is  near. 
I  had  not  thought,  until  this  hour 
When  passing  from  the  earth,  that  ear 
Of  any,  were  it  not  the  shade 
Of  one  whom  in  life  I  made 
All  mystery  but  a  simple  name, 
Might  know  the  secret  of  a  spirit 
Bow'd  down  in  sorrow,  and  in  shame.  - 
Shame,  said'st  thou? 

Ay,  I  did  inherit 
That  hated  portion,  with  the  fame, 


NOTES  283 


The  worldly  glory,  which  has  shown 
A  demon-light  around  my  throne, 
Scorching  my  sear'd  heart  with  a  pain 
Not  Hell  shall  make  me  fear  again. 

in 

I  have  not  always  been  as  now  — 
The  fever'd  diadem  on  my  brow 
I  claim 'd  and  won  usurpingly  — 
Ay  —  the  same  heritage  hath  given 
Rome  to  the  Caesar  —  this  to  me; 
The  heirdom  of  a  kingly  mind  — 
And  a  proud  spirit,  which  hath  striven 
Triumphantly  with  human  kind. 

In  mountain  air  I  first  drew  life; 
The  mists  of  the  Taglay  have  shed  (*) 
Nightly  their  dews  on  my  young  bead; 
And  my  brain  drank  their  venom  then, 
When  after  day  of  perilous  strife 
With  chamois,  I  would  seize  his  den 
And  slumber,  in  my  pride  of  power, 
The  infant  monarch  of  the  hour  — 
For,  with  the  mountain  dew  by  night, 
My  soul  imbibed  unhallow'd  feeling; 
And  I  would  feel  its  essence  stealing 
In  dreams  upon  me  —  while  the  light 
Flashing  from  cloud  that  hover'd  o'er. 
Would  seem  to  my  half  closing  eye 
The  pageantry  of  monarchy! 
And  the  deep  thunder's  echoing  roar 
Came  hurriedly  upon  me,  telling 
Of  war,  and  tumult,  where  my  voice, 
My  own  voice,  silly  child!  was  swelling 
(O  how  would  my  wild  heart  rejoice 
And  leap  within  me  at  the  cry) 
The  battle-cry  of  victory  I 


284  NOTES 


The  rain  came  down  upon  my  head 
But  barely  shelter'd  —  and  the  wind 
Pass'd  quickly  o'er  me  —  but  my  mind 
Was  maddening  —  for  't  was  man  that  shed 
Laurels  upon  me  —  and  the  rush, 
The  torrent  of  the  chilly  air 
Gurgled  in  my  pleased  ear  the  crush 
Of  empires,  with  the  captive's  prayer, 
The  hum  of  suitors,  the  mix'd  tone 
Of  flattery  round  a  sovereign's  throne. 

The  storm  had  ceased  —  and  I  awoke  — 
Its  spirit  cradled  me  to  sleep, 
And  as  it  pass'd  me  by,  there  broke 
Strange  light  upon  me,  tho'  it  were 
My  soul  in  mystery  to  steep: 
For  I  was  not  as  I  had  been; 
The  child  of  Nature,  without  care, 
Or  thought,  save  of  the  passing  scene.  — 


My  passions,  from  that  hapless  hour, 
Usurp'd  a  tyranny,  which  men 
Have  deem'd,  since  I  have  reach'd  to  power* 
My  innate  nature  —  be  it  so: 
But,  father,  there  lived  one  who,  then  — 
Then  in  my  boyhood,  when  their  fire 
Burn'd  with  a  still  intenser  glow; 
(For  passion  must  with  youth  expire) 
Even  then,  who  deem'd  this  iron  heart 
In  woman's  weakness  had  a  part. 

I  have  no  words,  alas!  to  tell 
The  loveliness  of  loving  well! 
Nor  would  I  dare  attempt  to  trace 
The  breathing  beauty  of  a  face, 


NOTES  285 

Which  even  to  my  impassion'd  mind, 
Leaves  not  its  memory  behind. 
In  spring  of  life  have  ye  ne'er  dwelt 
Some  object  of  delight  upon, 
With  steadfast  eye,  till  ye  have  felt 
The  earth  reel  —  and  the  vision  gone  ? 
And  I  have  held  to  memory's  eye 
One  object  —  and  but  one  —  until 
Its  very  form  hath  pass'd  me  by, 
But  left  its  influence  with  me  still. 

VI 

'T  is  not  to  thee  that  I  should  name  — 
Thou  canst  not  —  wouldst  not  dare  to  think 
The  magic  empire  of  a  flame 
Which  even  upon  this  perilous  brink 
Hath  fix'd  my  soul,  tho'  unforgiven, 
By  what  it  lost  for  passion  —  Heaven. 
I  loved  —  and  0,  how  tenderly! 
Yes!  she  [was]  worthy  of  all  lovel 
Such  as  in  infancy  was  mine, 
Tho'  then  its  passion  could  not  be: 
"T  was  such  as  angels'  minds  above 
Might  envy  —  her  young  heart  the  shrine 
On  which  my  every  hope  and  thought 
Were  incense  —  then  a  goodly  gift  — 
For  they  were  childish,  without  sin, 
Pure  as  her  young  example  taught; 
Why  did  I  leave  it  and  adrift, 
Trust  to  the  fickle  star  within  ? 

vn 

We  grew  in  age  and  love  together, 
Roaming  the  forest  and  the  wild; 
My  breast  her  shield  in  wintry  weather, 
And  when  the  friendly  sunshine  smiled 
And  she  would  mark  the  opening  skies, 
I  saw  no  Heaven  but  in  her  eyes  — 


286  NOTES 

Even  childhood  knows  the  human  heart; 
For  when,  in  sunshine  and  in  smiles, 
From  all  our  little  cares  apart, 
Laughing  at  her  half  silly  wiles, 
I  'd  throw  me  on  her  throbbing  breast, 
And  pour  my  spirit  out  in  tears, 
She'd  look  up  in  my  wilder'd  eye  — 
There  was  no  need  to  speak  the  rest  — 
No  need  to  quiet  her  kind  fears  — 
She  did  not  ask  the  reason  why. 

The  hallow'd  rffemory  of  those  years 
Comes  o'er  me  in  these  lonely  hours, 
And,  with  sweet  loveliness,  appears 
As  perfume  of  strange  summer  flowers; 
Of  flowers  which  we  have  known  before 
In  infancy,  which  seen,  recall 
To  mind  —  not  flowers  alone  —  but  more, 
Our  earthly  life,  and  love  —  and  all. 

VIII 

Yes!  she  was  worthy  of  all  love! 
Even  such  as  from  the  accursed  time 
My  spirit  with  the  tempest  strove, 
When  on  the  mountain  peak  alone, 
Ambition  lent  it  a  new  tone, 
And  bade  it  first  to  dream  of  crime, 
My  frenzy  to  her  bosom  taught: 
We  still  were  young:  no  purer  thought 
Dwelt  in  a  seraph's  breast  than  thine  ;  (*) 
For  passionate  love  is  still  divine: 
/  loved  her  as  an  angel  might 
With  ray  of  the  all  living  light 
Which  blazes  upon  Edis'  shrine.  (4) 
It  is  not  surely  sin  to  name, 
With  such  as  mine  —  that  mystic  flame, 
I  had  no  being  but  in  thee! 
The  world  with  all  its  train  of  bright 
And  happy  beauty  (for  to  me 


NOTES  287 


All  was  an  undefined  delight), 
The  world  —  its  joy  —  its  share  of  pain 
Which  I  felt  not  —  its  bodied  forms 
Of  varied  being,  which  contain 
The  bodiless  spirits  of  the  storms, 
The  sunshine,  and  the  calm  —  the  ideal 
And  fleeting  vanities  of  dreams, 
Fearfully  beautiful!  the  real 
Nothings  of  mid-day  waking  life  — 
Of  an  enchanted  life,  which  seems, 
Now  as  I  look  back,  the  strife 
Of  some  ill  demon,  with  a  power 
Which  left  me  in  an  evil  hour, 
All  that  I  felt,  or  saw,  or  thought, 
Crowding,  confused  became 
(With  thine  unearthly  beauty  fraught) 
Thou  —  and  the  nothing  of  a  name. 


IX 

The  passionate  spirit  which  hath  known, 
And  deeply  felt  the  silent  tone 
Of  its  own  self  supremacy,  — 
(I  speak  thus  openly  to  thee, 
"T  were  folly  now  to  veil  a  thought 
With  which  this  aching  breast  is  fraught) 
The  soul  which  feels  its  innate  right  — 
The  mystic  empire  and  high  power 
Given  by  the  energetic  might 
Of  Genius,  at  its  natal  hour; 
Which  knows  (believe  me  at  this  time, 
When  falsehood  were  a  tenfold  crime, 
There  ir  a  power  in  the  high  spirit 
To  know  the  fate  it  will  inherit) 
The  soul,  which  knows  such  power,  will  still 
Find  Pride  the  ruler  of  his  will. 

Yes!  I  was  proud  —  and  ye  who  know 
The  magic  of  that  meaning  word, 


288  NOTES 

So  oft  perverted,  will  bestow 

Your  scorn,  perhaps,  when  ye  have  heard 

That  the  proud  spirit  had  been  broken, 

The  proud  heart  burst  in  agony 

At  one  upbraiding  word  or  token 

Of  her  that  heart's  idolatry  — 

I  was  ambitious  —  have  ye  known 

Its  fiery  passion  ?  —  ye  have  not  — 

A  cottager,  I  mark'd  a  throne 

Of  half  the  world,  as  all  my  own, 

And  murmur'd  at  such  lowly  lot! 

But  it  had  pass'd  me  as  a  dream 

Which,  of  light  step,  flies  with  the  dew, 

That  kindling  thought  —  did  not  the  bean 

Of  Beauty,  which  did  guide  it  through 

The  livelong  summer  day,  oppress 

My  mind  with  double  loveliness  — 


x 

We  walk'd  together  on  the  crown 
Of  a  high  mountain,  which  look'd  down 
Afar  from  its  proud  natural  towers 
Of  rock  and  forest,  on  the  hills  — 
The  dwindled  hills,  whence  amid  bowers 
Her  own  fair  hand  had  rear'd  around, 
Gush'd  shoutingly  a  thousand  rills, 
Which  as  it  were,  in  fairy  bound 
Embraced  two  hamlets  —  those  our  own  • 
Peacefully  happy  —  yet  alone  — 


I  spoke  to  her  of  power  and  pride  — 
But  mystically,  in  such  guise, 
That  she  might  deem  it  nought  beside 
The  moment's  converse;  in  her  eyes 
I  read  (perhaps  too  carelessly) 
A  mingled  feeling  with  my  own; 
The  flush  on  her  bright  cheek  to  me, 
Seem'd  to  become  a  queenly  throne 


NOTES  289 


Too  well,  that  I  should  let  it  be 
A  light  in  the  dark  wild,  alone. 


XI 

There  —  in  that  hour  —  a  thought  came  o'er 
My  mind,  it  had  not  known  before  — 
To  leave  her  while  we  both  were  young,  —    .k 
To  follow  my  high  fate  among 
The  strife  of  nations,  and  redeem 
The  idle  words,  which,  as  a  dream 
Now  sounded  to  her  heedless  ear  — 
I  held  no  doubt  —  I  knew  no  fear 
Of  peril  in  my  wild  career; 
To  gain  an  empire,  and  throw  down 
As  nuptial  dowry  —  a  queen's  crown, 
The  only  feeling  which  possest, 
With  her  own  image,  my  fond  breast  — 
Who,  that  had  known  the  secret  thought 
Of  a  young  peasant's  bosom  then, 
Had  deem'd  him,  in  compassion,  aught 
But  one,  whom  fantasy  had  led 
Astray  from  reason  —  Among  men 
Ambition  is  chain'd  down  —  nor  fed 
(As  in  the  desert,  where  the  grand, 
The  wild,  the  beautiful,  conspire 
With  their  own  breath  to  fan  its  fire)  ' 
With  thoughts  such  feeling  can  command; 
Uncheck'd  by  sarcasm,  and  scorn 
Of  those,  who  hardly  will  conceive 
That  any  should  become  "great,"  born  (^ 
In  their  own  sphere  —  will  not  believe 
That  they  shall  stoop  in  life  to  one 
Whom  daily  they  are  wont  to  see 
Familiarly  —  whom  Fortune's  sun 
Hath  ne'er  shone  dazzlingly  upon, 
Lowly  —  and  of  their  own  degree  — 


29O  NOTES 

xn 

I  pictured  to  my  fancy's  eye 
Her  silent,  deep  astonishment, 
When,  a  few  fleeting  years  gone  by, 
(For  short  the  time  my  high  hope  lent 
To  its  most  desperate  intent,) 
She  might  recall  in  him,  whom  Fame 
Had  gilded  with  a  conqueror's  name 
(With  glory  —  such  as  might  inspire 
Perforce,  a  passing  thought  of  one, 
Whom  she  had  deem'd  in  his  own  fire 
Wither'd  and  blasted;  who  had  gone  . 
A  traitor,  violate  of  the  truth 
So  plighted  in  his  early  youth,) 
Her  own  Alexis,  who  should  plight  O 
The  love  he  plighted  then  —  again, 
And  raise  his  infancy's  delight, 
The  bride  and  queen  of  Tamerlane.  — 


XIII 

One  noon  of  a  bright  summer's  day 
I  pass'd  from  out  the  matted  bower 
Where  in  a  deep,  still  slumber  lay  t 
My  Ada.  In  that  peaceful  hour, 
A  silent  gaze  was  my  farewell. 
I  had  no  other  solace  —  then 
To  awake  her,  and  a  falsehood  tell 
Of  a  feign'd  journey,  were  again 
To  trust  the  weakness  of  my  heart 
To  her  soft  thrilling  voice:  To  part 
Thus,  haply,  while  in  sleep  she  dream'd  \ 
Of  long  delight,  nor  yet  had  deem'd 
Awake,  that  I  had  held  a  thought 
Of  parting,  were  with  madness  fraught; 
I  knew  not  woman's  heart,  alas! 
Tho'  loved,  and  loving  —  let  it  pass.  — ' 


NOTES  291 


xnr 

I  went  from  out  the  matted  bower 
And  hurried  madly  on  my  way: 
And  felt,  with  every  flying  hour, 
That  bore  me  from  my  home,  more  gay; 
There  is  of  earth  an  agony 
Which,  ideal,  still  may  be 
The  worst  ill  of  mortality. 
'T  is  bliss,  in  its  own  reality, 
Too  real,  to  his  breast  who  lives 
Not  within  himself  but  gives 
A  portion  of  his  willing  soul 
To  God,  and  to  the  great  whole  — 
To  him,  whose  loving  spirit  will  dwell 
With  Nature,  in  her  wild  paths;  tell      V 
Of  her  wondrous  ways,  and  telling  bless 
Her  overpowering  loveliness! 
A  more  than  agony  to  him 
Whose  failing  sight  will  grow  dim 
With  its  own  living  gaze  upon 
That  loveliness  around:  the  sun  — 
The  blue  sky  —  the  misty  light 
Of  the  pale  cloud  therein,  whose  hue 
Is  grace  to  its  heavenly  bed  of  blue; 
Dim!  tho'  looking  on  all  bright! 
O  God!  when  the  thoughts  that  may  not  put 
Will  burst  upon  him,  and  alas! 
For  the  flight  on  Earth  to  Fancy  given, 
There  are  no  words  —  unless  of  Heaven. 


xv 

Look  round  thee  now  on  SamarcandX7) 
Is  she  not  queen  of  earth  ?  her  pride 
Above  all  cities  ?  in  her  hand 
Their  destinies  ?  with  all  beside 
Of  glory,  which  the  world  hath  known? 
Stands  she  not  proudly  and  alone? 


2Q2  NOTES 

And  who  her  sovereign?  Timur,  he  (*) 
Whom  the  astonish'd  earth  hath  seen, 
With  victory,  on  victory, 
Redoubling  age!  and  more,  I  ween, 
The  Zinghis'  yet  re-echoing  fame.  (*) 
And  now  what  has  he  ?  what!  a  name. 
The  sound  of  revelry  by  night 
Comes  o'er  me,  with  the  mingled  voice 
Of  many  with  a  breast  as  light 
As  if 't  were  not  the  dying  hour 
Of  one,  in  whom  they  did  rejoice  — 
As  in  a  leader,  haply  —  Power 
Its  venom  secretly  imparts; 
Nothing  have  I  with  human  hearts. 

XVI 

When  Fortune  mark'd  me  for  her  own 
And  my  proud  hopes  had  reach'd  a  throne 
(It  boots  me  not,  good  friar,  to  tell 
A  tale  the  world  but  knows  too  well, 
How  by  what  hidden  deeds  of  might, 
I  clamber'd  to  the  tottering  height,) 
I  still  was  young;  and  well  I  ween 
My  spirit  what  it  e'er  had  been. 
My  eyes  were  still  on  pomp  and  power, 
My  wilder'd  heart  was  far  away 
In  the  valleys  of  the  wild  Taglay, 
In  mine  own  Ada's  matted  bower. 
I  dwelt  not  long  in  Samarcand 
Ere,  in  a  peasant's  lowly  guise, 
I  sought  my  long-abandon 'd  land; 
By  sunset  did  its  mountains  rise 
In  dusky  grandeur  to  my  eyes: 
But  as  I  wander'd  on  the  way 
My  heart  sunk  with  the  sun's  ray. 
To  him,  who  still  would  gaze  upon 
The  glory  of  the  summer  sun, 
There  comes,  when  that  sun  will  from  him  part, 
A  sullen  hopelessness  of  heart. 


NOTES  293 

That  soul  will  hate  the  evening  mist 

So  often  lovely,  and  will  list 

To  the  sound  of  the  coming  darkness  (known 

To  those  whose  spirits  hearken)  (10)  as  one 

Who  in  a  dream  of  night  would  fly, 

But  cannot,  from  a  danger  nigh. 

What  though  the  moon  —  the  silvery  moon  — 

Shine  on  his  path,  in  her  high  noon; 

Her  smile  is  chilly,  and  her  beam 

In  that  time  of  dreariness  will  seem 

As  the  portrait  of  one  after  death; 

A  likeness  taken  when  the  breath 

Of  young  life,  and  the  fire  o'  the  eye, 

Had  lately  been,  but  had  pass'd  by. 

T  is  thus  when  the  lovely  summer  sun 

Of  our  boyhood,  his  course  hath  run: 

For  all  we  live  to  know  —  is  known; 

And  all  we  seek  to  keep  —  hath  flown; 

With  the  noon-day  beauty,  which  is  all. 

Let  life,  then,  as  the  day-flower,  fall  — 

The  transient,  passionate  day-flower,  (u) 

Withering  at  the  evening  hour. 


I  reach'd  my  home  —  my  home  no  more1 
For  all  was  flown  that  made  it  so  — 
I  pass'd  from  out  its  mossy  door, 
In  vacant  idleness  of  woe. 
There  met  me  on  its  threshold  stone 
A  mountain  hunter,  I  had  known 
In  childhood,  but  he  knew  me  not. 
Something  he  spoke  of  the  old  cot: 
It  had  seen  better  days,  he  said; 
There  rose  a  fountain  once,  and  there 
Full  many  a  fair  flower  raised  its  head: 
But  she  who  rear'd  them  was  long  dead,  | 
And  in  such  follies  had  no  part. 
What  was  there  left  me  now  ?  despair  — 
A  kingdom  for  a  broken  —  heart. 


294  NOTES 

Variations  in  Poe's  MS.  from  above  follows :  — 

IV.  9.  The  mixed  tone :  and  the  tone. 
13.  Dare  attempt:  now  attempt. 

V.  14.  Breathing :  more  than. 
15.  My:  this. 

21.  And  have:  so  have  I. 

VIII.  2.  Such  as  I  taught  her  from  the  time.  l  " 
7~io.  There  were  no  holier  thoughts  than  thin*. 

II.  Her:  thee. 

21.  Which  I  felt  not:  Unheeded  then, 

30.  Some :  an. 

33.  Confused:  confusedly. 

IX.  4-10.  Omit. 

11.  Me  at  this  time :  for  now  on  me. 

12.  Truth  flashes  thro  eternity. 
15.  Knows :  feels. 

26.  Its:  The. 

X.  6.  Own  fair :  magic. 
8-10. 

Encircling  with  a  glittering  bound 
Of  diamond  sunshine  and  sweet  spray 
Two  mossy  huts  of  the  Taglay. 

XI.  12-13. 

The  undying  hope  which  now  oppres^ 
A  spirit  ne'er  to  be  at  rest. 

14.  Secret :  silent. 

17.  Led :  thrown. 

18.  Astray  from  reason:  Her  mantle  over. 

19.  Ambition:  Lion  Ambition:  nor  fed.  Omit 
Insert:  — 

And  crouches  to  a  keeper's  hand. 

20.  As  in  the  desert:  Not  so  in  deserts. 

21.  Beautifies:  terrible. 

22.  Its :  his. 

XV.  6.  Proudly:  nobly. 
8.  Earth  hath  seen :  people  saw. 


NOTES  295 

0-H. 

Striding  o'er  empires  haughtily, 
A  diademed  outlaw, 
More  than  the  Zinghis  in  his  fame. 
12.  What:  even. 

16.  I  e  dying :  their  parting. 

17.  Cr:  From. 

30.          ing  have  I :  And  I  have  naught. 

POE'S  NOTES  TO  THE  EDITION  OF  1827 

NOTE  z 

I  have  sent  /or  thee,  holy  friar. 

Of  thr  history  of  Tamerlane  little  is  known;  and  with  that  little  I  have 
taken  the  full  liberty  of  a  poet.  —  That  he  was  descended  from  the  family 
of  Zinghis  Khan  is  more  than  probable  —  but  he  is  vulgarly  supposed  to 
have  been  the  son  of  a  shepherd,  and  to  have  raised  himself  to  the 
throne  by  his  own  address.  He  died  in  the  year  1405,  in  the  time  of  Pope 
Innocent  VII. 
How  I  shall  account  for  giving  him  "a  friar"  as  a  death-bed  confessor 

—  I  cannot  exactly  determine.  He  wanted  some  one  to  listen  to  his  tale 

—  and  why  not  a  friar?   It  does  not  pass  the  bounds  of  possibility  — 
quite  sufficient  for  my  purpose  —  and  I  have  at  least  good  authority 
on  my  side  for  such  innovations. 

NOTE  2 

The  mists  of  the  Taglay  have  shed,  &c. 

The  mountains  of  Belur  Taglay  are  a  branch  of  the  Imaus,  in  the 
southern  part  of  Independent  Tartary.  They  are  celebrated  for  the 
singular  wildness  and  beauty  of  their  valleys. 

Nor«  3 

No  purer  thought 

Dwelt  in  seraph's  breast  than  thine. 

I  must  beg  the  reader's  pardon  for  making  Tamerlane,  a  Tartar  of 
the  fourteenth  century,  speak  in  the  same  language  as  a  Boston  gentle 
man  of  the  nineteenth;  but  of  the  Tartar  mythology  we  have  little 
information. 


296  NOTES 

NOTE  4 

Which  blazes  upon  Edis'  shrine. 

A  deity  presiding  over  virtuous  love,  upon  whose  imaginary  altar  a 
sacred  fire  was  continually  blazing. 

NOTE  5 
Who  hardly  will  conceive 


That  any  should  become  "great,"  born 
In  their  own  sphere  — 

Although  Tamerlane  speaks  this,  it  is  not  the  less  true.  It  is  a  matter 
of  the  greatest  difficulty  to  make  the  generality  of  mankind  believe  that 
one  with  whom  they  are  upon  terms  of  intimacy  shall  be  called,  in  the 
world,  a  "great  man."  The  reason  is  evident.  There  are  few  great  men. 
Their  actions  are  consequently  viewed  by  the  mass  of  the  people  through 
the  medium  of  distance.  The  prominent  parts  of  their  characters  are 
alone  noted;  and  those  properties,  which  are  minute  and  common  to 
every  one,  not  being  observed,  seem  to  have  no  connection  with  a  great 
character. 

Who  ever  read  the  private  memorials,  correspondence,  &c.,  which 
have  become  so  common  in  our  time,  without  wondering  that  "great 
men"  should  act  and  think  "so  abominably"  ? 

NOTE  6 
Her  own  Alexis,  who  should  plight,  (fc. 

That  Tamerlane  acquired  his  renown  under  a  feigned  name  is  not 
entirely  a  fiction. 

NOTE  7 
Look  round  thee  now  on  Samarcand. 

I  believe  it  was  after  the  battle  of  Angora  that  Tamerlane  made  Samar 
cand  his  residence.  It  became  for  a  time  the  seat  of  learning  and  the  arts. 

NOTE  8 

And  who  her  sovereign?  Timur,  &c. 
He  was  called  Timur  Bek  as  well  as  Tamerlane. 


NOTES ]  297 


NOTE  9 

The  Zingkis'  yet  re-echoing  fame. 

The  conquests  of  Tamerlane  far  exceeded  those  of  Zinghis  Khan.  He 
boasted  to  have  two-thirds  of  the  world  at  his  command. 

NOTE  10 

The  sound  of  the  coming  darkness  (known 
To  those  whose  spirits  hearken). 

I  have  often  fancied  that  I  could  distinctly  hear  the  sound  of  the  dark 
ness,  as  it  steals  over  the  horizon  —  a  foolish  fancy,  perhaps,  but  not 
more  unintelligible  than  to  see  music  — 

"The  mind  the  music  breathing  from  her  face." 

NOTE  ii 

Let  life  then,  as  the  day-flower,  faU. 

There  is  a  flower  (I  have  never  known  its  botanic  name),  vulgarly 
called  the  day-flower.  It  blooms  beautifully  in  the  daylight,  but  withers 
towards  evening,  and  by  night  its  leaves  appear  totally  shrivelled  and 
dead.  I  have  forgotten,  however,  to  mention  in  the  text,  that  it  lives 
again  in  the  morning.  If  it  will  not  flourish  in  Tartary,  I  must  be  for 
given  for  carrying  it  thither. 

SONNET  TO  SCIENCE 

1829;  Philadelphia  Casket,  1830,  1831;  Southern  Literary  Messenger, 
May,  1836;  Graham's  Magazine  ("  The  Island  of  the  Fay,"  1841);  1845; 
Broadway  Journal,  II,  4;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4, 1843. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text:  — 
I.  True:  meet.  1829;  P.  C.;  1831;  S.  L.  M. 
a.  Peering:  piercing.  P.  C. 
3.  The:  they.  P.  C. 
5.  Should:  shall.  P.  C. 
8.  Soared:  soar.   S.  L.  M. 
Insert  after  10:  — 

Hast  thou  not  spoilt  a  story  in  each  star  ? 
Hast  thou  not  torn  the  Naiad  from  her  flood  ? 


298  NOTES 

The  elfin  from  the  grass  ?  —  the  dainty  fay 
The  witch,  the  sprite,  the  goblin  —  where  are  they  ? 

Anon.    G.  M. 

11.  A :  for.  P.  C. 

12.  The  gentle  Naiad  from  her  fountain  flood.  1829;  S.  L.  M.  Her. 
the.  P.  C. 

13.  Crass:  wood.  P.  C. 

14.  Tamarind  tree:  shrubbery.  1831;  S.  L.M.;  P. C. Summer:  sum 
mers.  P.  C. 

AL  AARAAF 

1829,  Poe  MS.,  1829;  1831, 1845;  I-  lines  66-67,  70-79,  82-101,  126- 
129;  II.  20-21,  24-27,  52-59,  68-135  appeared  in  the  Philadelphia  Satur 
day  Museum,  March  4,  1843. 

,  Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

1-15.  Mysterious  star! 

Thou  wert  my  dream 
All  a  long  summer  night  — 
Be  now  my  theme! 
By  this  clear  stream, 
Of  thee  will  I  write; 
Meantime  from  afar 
Bathe  me  in  light! 

Thy  world  has  not  the  dross  of  ours, 
Yet  all  the  beauty  —  all  the  flowers 
That  list  our  love,  or  deck  our  bowers 
In  dreamy  gardens,  where  do  lie 
Dreamy  maidens  all  the  day, 
While  the  silver  winds  of  Circassy 
On  violet  couches  faint  away. 
Little  —  oh!  little  dwells  in  thee 
Like  unto  what  on  earth  we  see: 
Beauty's  eye  is  here  the  bluest 
In  the  falsest  and  untruest  — 
On  the  sweetest  air  doth  float 
The  most  sad  and  solemn  note  — 


NOTES  299 

If  with  thee  be  broken  hearts, 
Joy  so  peacefully  departs, 
That  its  echo  still  doth  dwell, 
Like  the  murmur  in  the  shell. 
Thou!  thy  truest  type  of  grief 
Is  the  gently  falling  leaf  —> 
Thou!  thy  framing  is  so  holy 
Sorrow  is  not  melancholy.    1831. 

II.  Ok:  With.   1831.  Ah.   1829  MS. 

19.  An  oasis:  a  garden-spot.   1829;  1831. 

43.  rear.  1831. 

88.  Which:  That.  S.  M. 

95.  Red:  Omit  1831. 

127.  Merest:  verest.   S.  M. 

128.  All:  Here.  1829;  1831;  S.  M. 
Part  II.  33.  Peered:  ventured.   1829. 

53.  Cheeks  were:  cheeks  was.  S.  M. 

56.  That:  this.  S.  M. 

58.  Fairy :  brilliant.   S.  M. 

91.  Wings:  S.  M. 

92.  Each  .  .  .  thing:  All  ...  things.  S.  M. 
94.  Would:  will.  S.  M. 

99.  Lead:  hang.   1829;  1831. 
117.  A  deep  dreamy.  S.  M. 

197.  The  orb  of  the  Earth:  one  constant  star.  1829;  1831. 
213.  He:  it.  1829;  1831. 

In  the  Saturday  Museum  transpose  II.  lines  20-59. 
Notes :  In  Graham's  Magazine,  February,  1845,  which  was  revised  by 
Poe,  referring  to  the  lines  of  "  Ligeia  "  in  "  Al  Aaraaf "  it  is  stated  : 
"  In  a  poem  called  'Ligeia'  he  intended  to  personify  the  music  of  nature." 
In  "The  Rationale  of  Verse"  Poe  refers  to  other  lines  in  Part  II,  begin 
ning:  "Dim  was  its  little  disk,  and  angel  eyes,"  and  says:  "  the  passages 
occur  in  a  boyish  poem  written  by  myself  when  a  boy.  I  am  referring 
to  the  sudden  and  rapid  advent  of  a  star." 

Poe  evidently  derived  the  name  "Al  Aaraaf"  from  AI-Araf,  signifying 
the  partition  between  Paradise  and  Hell,  which  is  mentioned  in  the 
chapter  copied  from  the  great  gulf  of  separation  mentioned  in  Scripture. 
They  call  it  Al-Orf,  or  more  frequently  Al  Araf  —  a  word  derived  from 


3OO  NOTES 

the  verb  Arafa,  which  signifies  to  distinguish  between  things  or  to  part 
them.  See  Poe's  own  "Al  Aaraaf  "  notes. 

That  he  was  not  satisfied  with  the  name  "AI  Aaraaf"  as  taking  part 
in  the  affairs  of  the  poem  is  most  evident  from  two  changes  made  by  him. 
The  first  was  made  in  the  copy  of  the  1829  poems,  which  he  used  for  the 
copy  of  his  1845  poems.  In  the  second  part  of  the  poem  where  it  says: 

"When  first  Al  Aaraaf  knew  her  course  to  be  "  he  changed  "  Al  Aaraaf" 
to  read  Tophet,  and  when  he  quoted  the  passage  again  late  in  life  in 
"The  Rationale  of  Verse"  he  changed  it  a  second  time  to  The  Phantoms. 

In  the  1829  volume  there  are  two  changes  which  do  not  appear  else 
where.  In  Part  II,  38th  line,  "the"  is  changed  to  thy,  and  in  the  next 
line  following,  "Of  beautiful  Gomorroh!"  reads  Too  beautiful  Gomorrah. 


ROMANCE 

Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4,  1843;  1845;  Broadway  Jour- 
gal,  II,  8.  —  Preface,  1829;  Poe  MS.,  1829;  Introduction,  1831. 
,  Text,  1845. 

Variations  of  1829  from  the  text:  — 
12.  Heavens.  B.  J. 
14.  I  scarcely  have  had  time  for  cares.  S.  M. 

I  have  time  for  no  idle  cares.   1829  MS. 
The  1831  version  is  as  follows:  — 

INTRODUCTION 

Romance,  who  loves  to  nod  and  sing, 
With  drowsy  head  and  folded  wing, 
Among  the  green  leaves  as  they  shake 
Far  down  within  some  shadowy  lake, 

To  me  a  painted  paroquet 
Hath  been  —  a  most  familiar  bird  —  I 

Taught  me  my  alphabet  to  say,  — ' 
To  lisp  my  very  earliest  word 
While  in  the  wild-wood  I  did  lie 
A  child  —  with  a  most  knowing  eye 
Succeeding  years,  too  wild  for  song, 
Then  roll'd  like  tropic  storms  along, 


NOTES  3OI 


Where,  tho'  the  garish  lights  that  fly, 
Dying  along  the  troubled  sky 
Lay  bare,  thro'  vistas  thunder-riven, 
The  blackness  of  the  general  Heaven, 
That  very  blackness  yet  doth  fling 
Light  on  the  lightning's  silver  wing. 

For,  being  an  idle  boy  lang  syne, 
Who  read  Anacreon,  and  drank  wine, 
I  early  found  Anacreon  rhymes 
Were  almost  passionate  sometimes  -— 
And  by  strange  alchemy  of  brain 
His  pleasures  always  turn'd  to  pain  — 
His  naivete  to  wild  desire  — 
His  wit  to  love  —  his  wine  to  fire  — 
And  so,  being  young  and  dipt  in  folly 
I  fell  in  love  with  melancholy, 
And  used  to  throw  my  earthly  rest 
And  quiet  all  away  in  jest  — 
I  could  not  love  except  where  Death 
Was  mingling  his  with  Beauty's  breath 
Or  Hymen,  Time,  and  Destiny 
Were  stalking  between  her  and  me. 

O,  then  the  eternal  Condor  years, 
So  shook  the  very  Heavens  on  high, 
With  tumult  as  they  thunder 'd  by; 
I  had  no  time  for  idle  cares, 
Thro'  gazing  on  the  unquiet  sky! 
Or  if  ah  hour  with  calmer  wing 
Its  down  did  on  my  spirit  fling, 
That  little  hour  with  lyre  and  rhyme 
To  while  away  —  forbidden  thing  1 
My  heart  half  fear'd  to  be  a  crime 
Unless  it  trembled  with  the  string. 
But  now  my  soul  hath  too  much  room  — 
Gone  are  the  glory  and  the  gloom  — 
The  black  hath  mellow'd  into  grey, 
And  all  the  fires  are  fading  away.    , 


NOTES 

My  draught  of  passion  hath  been  deep  — 
I  revell'd,  and  I  now  would  sleep  — 
And  after-drunkenness  of  soul 
Succeeds  the  glories  of  the  bowl  — 
An  idle  longing  night  and  day 
To  dream  my  very  life  away. 

But  dreams  —  of  those  who  dream  as  I, 
Aspiringly,  are  damned,  and  die: 
Yet  should  I  swear  I  mean  alone, 
By  notes  so  very  shrilly  blown, 
To  break  upon  Time's  monotone, 
While  yet  my  vapid  joy  and  grief 
Are  tintless  of  the  yellow  leaf  — 
Why  not  an  imp  the  graybeard  hath 
Will  shake  his  shadow  in  my  path  — 
And  even  the  graybeard  will  o'erlook 
Connivingly  my  dreaming-book. 

Variations  from  1829  follow  :  — 
11-34.  Omit. 

35.  0,  then  the:  01  late. 

36.  Shook  the  very  Heavens :  shake  the  very  air. 

37.  Thunder'd:  thunder. 

38.  I  hardly  have  had  time  for  cares. 

40.  Or  if  .  .  .  wing :  And  when  .  .  .  wings. 

41.  Did  on  .  .  .  fling:  upon  .  .  .  flings. 

43.  Things:  thing. 

44.  Half-feared :  would  feel. 

45.  Unless  it  trembled  .  .  .  strings :  Did  it  not  tremble  .  .  .  strings. 
46-66.  Omit. 

Notes :  The  manuscript  changes  made  by  Poe  in  this  poem  exist  hi  the 
presentation  copy  of  "  Al  Aaraaf,  Tamerlane  and  Minor  Poems,"  to  his 
cousin  Elizabeth  Herring.  The  date  on  the  title-page  of  this  copy  is  1820. 
The  volume  was  used  by  Poe  while  editing  the  Broadway  Journal 
and  in  printing  the  1845  edition  of  his  poems.  The  changes  in  this 
copy  indicate  that  the  third  draft  was  made  into  the  Broadway  Jour 
nal. 


NOTES  303 

SONG 
"I  SAW  THEE  ON  THY  BRIDAL  DAY" 

1827, 1829,  Poe  MS.,  1829;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  II,  II. 

Text,  1845. 
Variations  from  the  text :  — 

I.  i.  Thy:  the.  1827. 

II.  2.  Of  young  passions  free.   1827. 

3.  Aching:  chained.   1827;  fetter'd.   1829. 

4.  Could :  might.   1827. 

III.  I.  Perhaps:  I  ween.   1827. 

Notes :  The  manuscript  of  this  poem  in  Poe's  hand,  written  about  1829, 
is  in  the  library  of  a  Chicago  collector.  It  has  the  additional  heading 
of  "In  an  Album,"  and  on  the  margin  where  four  lines  of  the  second 
stanza  is  omitted  is  written  "4  lines  omitted  see  last  page."  The  last  page 
however  is  missing.  A  volume  of  the  Saturday  Evening  Post  for  1826  with 
a  few  notations  in  Poe's  hand,  and  coming  from  the  counting  house  of 
Ellis  &  Allan,  Richmond,  Virginia,  where  Poe  was  employed  in  1827, 
has  a  poem  reading:  — 

"I  saw  her  on  the  bridal  day, 

In  blushing  beauty  blest, 

Smiles  o'er  her  lips  were  seen  to  play 

Like  gilded  gleams  at  dawn  of  day, 

The  fairest  of  the  guest." 

The  changes  from  1829  to  1845  are  also  noted  in  the  1829  copy  of 
poems  with  Poe's  revision.  The  word  Though  appears  changed  through 
out  from  "Tho'." 

DREAMS 

1827 

Text,  1827. 

Note':  The  manuscript  of  this  poem,  in  Poe's  hand,  written  about 
1829,  now  in  the  library  of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  Esq.,  shows  the  follow- 
ing  variations  from  the  text:  — 

5.  CoW.-dull. 

6.  Must :  shall. 


304  NOTES 

7.  Still  upon  the  lovely:  ever,  on  the  chilly. 

14.  Dreams  of  living :  dreamy  fields  of. 

15.  Loveliness  have  left  my  very :  left  unheedingly  my. 
19.  Only.  In  italics. 

37.  After  tko1  insert  but  I  have  been.  No  italics. 


SPIRITS  OF  THE  DEAD 

Visit  of  the  Dead  —  1827;  Poe  MS. 

Spirits  of  the  Dead  — 1829;  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magaune,  July. 

1839- 

Text,  Burton's  Gentleman's  Mogatinc. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 
H.  I.  that:  thy.  MS. 

III.  8.  Insert  after:  — 

But 't  will  leave  thee  as  each  star 
With  the  dewdrop  flies  afar.  MS. 

IV.  4.  Dewdrops:  dewdrop.  MS.;  1829;  B.  G.  M. 
The  1827  version  runs  as  follows:  — 

VISIT  OF  THE  DEAD 


Thy  soul  shall  find  itself  alone  — 
Alone  of  all  on  earth  —  unknown 
The  cause  —  but  none  are  near  to  pry 
Into  thy  hour  of  secrecy. 
Be  silent  in  that  solitude, 
Which  is  not  loneliness  —  for  then 
The  spirits  of  the  dead,  who  stood 
In  life  before  thee,  are  again 
In  death  around  thee,  and  their  will 
Shall  then  o'ershadow  thee  —  be  still: 
For  the  night,  tho'  clear,  shall  frown; 
And  the  stars  shall  look  not  down 
From  their  thrones,  in  the  dark  heaven, 
With  light  like  Hope  to  mortals  given, 
But  their  red  orbs,  without  beam, 
To  thy  withering  heart  shall  seem 


NOTES  305 


As  a  burning,  and  a  fever 

Which  would  cling  to  thee  forever.' 

But 't  will  leave  thee,  as  each  star 

In  the  morning  light  afar 

Will  fly  thee  —  and  vanish: 

—  But  its  thought  thou  canst  not  banish. 

The  breath  of  God  will  be  still; 

And  the  mist  upon  the  hill 

By  that  summer  breeze  unbroken 

Shall  charm  thee  —  as  a  token, 

And  a  symbol  which  shall  be 

Secrecy  in  thee. 

EVENING  STAR 

1827 
Text,  1827. 


TO  (A  DREAM  WITHIN  A  DREAM) 

Imitation,  1827;  To ,  1829;  Tamerlane,  1831;  A  Dream  within 

a  Dream,  Flag  of  Our  Union,  March  31,  1849;  Richmond  Examiner 

(To ),  October,  1849;  Griswold,  1850. 

Text,  Richmond  Examiner. 
Variations  from  the  text :  — 
I.  Thy:  the  all  others. 
4.  To:  Who  all  others. 
The  earliest  version  (1827)  is  as  follows: 

IMITATION 

A  dark  unfathom'd  tide 
Of  interminable  pride  — 
A  mystery,  and  a  dream, 
Should  my  early  life  seem; 
I  say  that  dream  was  fraught 
With  a  wild,  and  waking  thought 
Of  beings  that  have  been, 
Which  my  spirit  hath  not  seen, 


306  NOTES 


Had  I  let  them  pass  me  by, 
With  a  dreaming  eyel 

Let  none  of  earth  inherit 

That  vision  on  my  spirit; 

Those  thoughts  I  would  control, 

As  a  spell  upon  his  soul: 

For  that  bright  hope  at  last 

And  that  light  time  have  past, 

And  my  worldly  rest  hath  gone 

With  a  sigh  as  it  pass'd  on: 

I  care  not  tho'  it  perish 

With  a  thought  I  then  did  cherish. 


The  1829  revision  is  as  follows:  — 
TO  — 


Should  my  early  life  seem 
(As  well  it  might]  a  dream  — 
Yet  I  build  no  faith  upon 
The  King  Napoleon  — 
I  look  not  up  afar 
For  my  destiny  in  a  star: 

In  parting  from  you  now 
Thus  much  I  will  avow  — 
There  are  beings,  and  have  been 
Whom  my  spirit  had  not  seen 
Had  I  let  them  pass  me  by 
With  a  dreaming  eye  — 
If  my  peace  hath  fled  away 
In  a  night  —  or  in  a  day  — 
In  a  vision  —  or  in  none  — 
Is  it  therefore  the  less  gone  ? 

I  am  standing  'mid  the  roar 
Of  a  weather-beaten  shore, 


NOTES  307 

And  I  hold  within  my  hand 
Some  particles  of  sand  — 
How  few  1  and  how  they  creep 
Thro'  my  fingers  to  the  deep  I 
My  early  hopes  ?  no  —  they 
Went  gloriously  away, 
Like  lightning  from  the  sky 
At  once  —  and  so  will  I. 

So  young  !  Ah  1  no  —  not  now  — 
Thou  hast  not  seen  my  brow, 
But  they  tell  thee  I  am  proud  — 
They  lie  —  they  lie  aloud  — 
My  bosom  beats  with  shame 
At  the  paltriness  of  name 
With  which  they  dare  combine 
A  feeling  such  as  mine  — 
Nor  Stoic  ?  I  am  not: 
In  the  terror  of  my  lot 
I  laugh  to  think  how  poor 
That  pleasure  "to  endure  !" 
What !  shade  of  Zeno  I  —  I ! 
Endure  !  —  no  —  no  —  defy. 

T  Notes :  The  lines  13-27  appear  in  "  Tamerlane,"  1831,  revised.  la 
line  18  of  "Imitation,"  the  word  "sigh"  is  printed  "sight."  It  is  con 
jectured  that  Poe's  last  revision,  "To ,"  was  addressed  to  "An 
nie,"  Mrs.  Richmond.  In  1849,  Foe  also  sent  to  Mrs.  Richmond  all  but 
the  first  nine  lines  as  a  separate  poem  signed  "Edgar,"  and  with  the 
title  "  For  Annie."  A  facsimile  of  the  manuscript  appeared  in  the  London 
Bookman  for  January,  1909. 

Variations  in  the  manuscript  are  as  follows:  — 

10.  All.  No  italics. 

19.  O:Oh. 

3i.  0:  Oh. 

23.  We:  L 


308  NOTES 


Text,  1827. 

Notes:  The  title  "Stanzas"  previously  used  with  this  poem  is  the 
late  E.  C.  Stedman's,  and  unauthorized.  If  this  was  one  of  the  poems 
written  by  Poe  in  1821-22,  he  afterwards  added  the  quotation  from  Byron 
—  "The  Island,"  which  was  not  published  until  June,  1823. 


A  DREAM 

1827,  no  title;  1829;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  II.  6. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 
Insert  as  first  stanza:  — 

A  wilder'd  being  from  my  birth, 

My  spirit  spurn'd  control, 
But  now,  abroad  on  the  wide  earth, 
Where  wanderest  thou,  my  soul  ?    1827. 

II.  i.  AA/And.  1827;  1829. 
.IV.  I.  Storm  and:  misty.  1827. 

2.  Trembled  from :  dimly  shone.  1827. 


"THE  HAPPIEST  DAY  — THE  HAPPIEST  HOUR" 

1827 
Text,  1827. 


THE  LAKE.    TO 


1827,  1829,  MS.;  1831  (in  "Tamerlane");  1845;  New  York,  Mis 
sionary  Memorial,  1846. 

Text,  Missionary  Memorial. 
The  1827  version  is  as  follows:  — 


NOTES  309 

THE  LAKE 

In  youth's  spring  it  was  my  lot 
To  haunt  of  the  wide  earth  a  spot 
The  which  I  could  not  love  the  less; 
So  lovely  was  the  loneliness 
Of  a  wild  lake,  with  black  rock  bound, 
And  the  tall  pines  that  tower 'd  around. 
But  when  the  night  had  thrown  her  pallj 
Upon  that  spot  —  as  upon  all, 
And  the  wind  would  pass  me  by 
In  its  stilly  melody, 
My  infant  spirit  would  awake 
To  the  terror  of  the  lone  lake. 
Yet  that  terror  was  not  fright  — 
But  a  tremulous  delight, 
And  a  feeling  undefined, 
Springing  from  a  darken'd  mind. 
Death  was  in  that  poison'd  wave 
And  in  its  gulf  a  fitting  grave 
For  him  who  thence  could  solace  bring 
To  his  dark  imagining; 
Whose  wildering  thought  could  even  make 
An  Eden  of  that  dim  lake. 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

I.  In  youth's  spring:  In  spring  of  youth.   1845. 
9.  ghastly  wind  went  by :  black  wind  murmured  by.   1819. 
Ghastly :  mystic.   1845. 

10.  In  a  dirge-like:  In  a  stilly.  MS.;  In  a  dirge  of.  1829.  In  « 
dirge-like:  murmuring  in.  1845. 

11.  Then  —  ah  then :  my  boyish.  MS. 

12.  That:  the.  All  others. 

15-17.         A  feeling  not  the  jewell'd  mine 

Should  ever  bribe  me  to  define  — 
Nor  Love  —  although  the  Love  be  mine.    1829. 
19.  Depth :  gulf,  all  others. 

Note :  A  manuscript  copy  of  this  poem  in  Poe's  hand,  written  about 
1829,  is  now  in  the  library  of  J.  Pierpont  Morgan,  Esq.,  of  New  York 
city. 


3IO  NOTES 

TO  

"THE  BOWERS,  WHEREAT,  IN   DREAMS,  I   SEE" 

1829;  1845;  Broadway  Journal,  II.  n. 
Text,  1845 

Variations  of  1820  from  the  text:  — 
III.  3.  The.  Omit. 
4.  Baubles :  trifles. 


TO  THE  RIVER 


1829;  Poe's  MS.  1829;  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  August,  1839; 
Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4, 1843;  1845;  Broadway  Journal, 
II.  9- 

Text,  1845 

Variations  from  the  text :  — 

I.  2.  Crystal  wandering:  labyrinth-like.  1829.  MS.;  B.  G.  M. 

II.  2.  In  parenthesis.  MS.;  B.  G.  M. 

4.  Her  worshipper :  Thy  pretty  self.  MS. 

5.  His:  my.   1829;  MS.;  B.  G.  M.;  B.  J. 

6.  Deeply :  lightly.  MS. 

7.  His:  The.  1829;  MS.;  B.  G.  M.;  B.  J. 

8.  Of  her  soul-searching:  The  scrutiny  of  her.  1829;  MS.;  B.  G.  M. 
Note :  A  manuscript  copy  of  this  poem  in  Poe's  hand,  written  about 

1829,  is  in  the  library  of  a  Chicago  collector,  and  in  addition  has  the  title 
"In  an  Album." 


TO 


To ;  "I  heed  not  that  my  earthly  lot."   Poe  MS.;  "Alone;" 

MS.  To  M ;  1829;  Griswold,  1850. 

Text,  Poe  MS. 

The  earliest  1829  form  of  the  poem  is  as  follows  with  MS.  changes 
noted  below:  — 


NOTES  311 


TO  M 

O!  I  care  not  that  my  earthly  lot 
Hath  little  of  Earth  in  it  — 
That  years  of  love  have  been  forgot 
In  the  fever  of  a  minute  — 

I  heed  not  that  the  desolate 
Are  happier  sweet,  than  I  — 
But  that  you  meddle  with  my  fate 
Who  am  a  passer  by. 

It  is  not  that  my  founts  of  bliss 
Are  gushing  —  strange!  with  tears  — 
Or  that  the  thrill  of  a  single  kiss 
Hath  palsied  many  years  — 

'T  is  not  that  the  flowers  of  twenty  springs 
Which  have  wither'd  as  they  rose 
Lie  dead  on  my  heart-strings 
With  the  weight  of  an  age  of  snows. 

Nor  that  the  grass  —  0!  may  it  thrive  I 
On  my  grave  is  growing  or  grown  — 
But  that,  while  I  am  dead  yet  alive 
I  cannot  be,  lady,  alone. 

9.  It  is  notfl  heed  not. 
IO.  Are  gushing:  Be  gushing,  oh! 

Or  that  the  thrill  of  a  single:  That  the  tremor  of  one. 

19.  Fe/:And. 

20.  Lady :  love. 

Note :  The  manuscript  of  this  poem  in  Foe's  later-year  handwriting  is 
in  the  Griswold  collection  signed  E.  A.  P. 


NOTES 


FAIRY-LAND 

1829,    1831;  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine,  August,   1839,   1845; 
Broadway  Journal,  II.  13. 

Text,  1845 

Variations  of  1829  from  the  text :  — 
13.  kind:  sort. 
20.  Over  halls :  and  rich. 

44.  Never  contented  things :  The  unbelieving  things. 
The  1831  version  is  as  follows:  — 

FAIRY-LAND 

Sit  down  beside  me,  Isabel, 

Here,  dearest,  where  the  moonbeam  fell 

Just  now  so  fairy-like  and  well. 

Now  thou  art  dress'd  for  paradise  1 

I  am  star-stricken  with  thine  eyesl 

My  soul  is  lolling  on  thy  sighs  1 

Thy  hair  is  lifted  by  the  moon 

Like  flowers  by  the  low  breath  of  June! 

Sit  down,  sit  down  —  how  came  we  here? 

Or  is  it  all  but  a  dream,  my  dear  ? 

You  know  that  most  enormous  flower  — 

That  rose  —  that  what  d'  ye  call  it  —  that  hung 

Up  like  a  dog-star  in  this  bower  — 

To-day  (the  wind  blew,  and)  it  swung 

So  impudently  in  my  face, 

So  like  a  thing  alive  you  know, 

I  tore  it  from  its  pride  of  place 

And  shook  it  into  pieces  —  so 

Be  all  ingratitude  requited. 

The  winds  ran  off  with  it  delighted, 

And,  thro'  the  opening  left,  as  soon 

As  she  threw  off  her  cloak,  yon  moon 

Has  sent  a  ray  down  with  a  tune. 


NOTES  313 


And  this  ray  is  a  fairy  ray  — 

Did  you  not  say  so,  Isabel  ? 

How  fantastically  it  fell 

With  a  spiral  twist  and  a  swell, 

And  over  the  wet  grass  rippled  away 

With  a  tinkling  like  a  bell! 

In  my  own  country  all  the  way 

We  can  discover  a  moon  ray 

Which  thro'  some  tatter'd  curtain  pries 

Into  the  darkness  of  a  room, 

Is  by  (the  very  source  of  gloom) 

The  motes,  and  dust,  and  flies, 

On  which  it  trembles  and  lies 

Like  joy  upon  sorrow! 

O,  when  will  come  the  morrow? 

Isabel,  do  you  not  fear 

The  night  and  the  wonders  here  ? 

Dim  vales!  and  shadowy  floods! 

And  cloudy-looking  woods 

Whose  forms  we  can't  discover 

For  the  tears  that  drip  all  overl 

Huge  moons  —  see!  wax  and  wane 

Again  —  again  —  again. 

Every  moment  of  the  night  — •  \ 

Forever  changing  places! 

How  they  put  out  the  starlight 

With  the  breath  from  their  pale  faces! 

Lol  one  is  coming  down 

With  its  centre  on  the  crown 

Of  a  mountain's  eminence! 

Down  —  still  down  —  and  down  — 

Now  deep  shall  be  —  O  deep! 

The  passion  of  our  sleep! 

For  that  wide  circumference 

In  easy  drapery  falls 

Drowsily  over  halls  — 


314  NOTES 

Over  ruin'd  walls— 

Over  waterfalls, 

(Silent  waterfalls!) 

O'er  the  strange  woods  —  o'er  the  sea  — 

Alas!  over  the  sea! 

Notes:  In  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine  there  was  the  following 
note  to  the  poem:  "The  Fairy-land  of  our  correspondent  is  not  orthodox. 
His  description  differs  from  all  received  accounts  of  the  country  —  but 
our  readers  will  pardon  the  extravagance  for  the  vigor  of  the  delineation." 

In  the  1829  edition  Poe  called  attention  at  the  thirty-third  line  to  the 
following  footnote:  "Plagiarism.  See  the  works  of  Thomas  Moore  — 
passim." 

Poe  used  the  first  four  lines  of  this  poem,  slightly  revised,  in  Drcam- 
Land,  lines  9  to  12.  See  extracts  from  the  Yankee  and  Boston  Literary 
Gazette,  page  176. 

TO  HELEN 

1831;  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  March,  1836;  Graham's  Magazine, 
September,  1841;  February,  1845;  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum, 
March  4, 1843;  1845. 

Text,  1845. 

Variations  from  the  text:  — 

II.  4.  Glory  that  was:  beauty  of  fair.    1831;  S.  L.  M. 
5.  That  was:  of  old.   1831;  S.  L.  M. 

III.  I.  Yon  brilliant. -that  little.   1831;  S.L.M.;  that  shadowy.  G.  M. 

3.  Agate  lamp:  folded  scroll.  1831;  S.  L.  M.;  G.  M. 

4.  Ah!:  A.  1831. 

FROM  AN  ALBUM  (ALONE) 
Text,  Scribner's  Magazine. 

This  poem  was  published  in  Scribner's  Magazine,  September,  1875, 
which  text  is  followed. 

The  poem  is  signed  E.  A.  Poe,  and  introduced  by  a  note  as  follows: 
"The  following  verses,  which  are  given  in  facsimile,  were  written  by 
Edgar  A.  Poe  shortly  before  he  left  West  Point  in  1829." 

Mr.  Eugene  L.  Didier  writes  that  he  discovered  and  cut  the  poem  from 
the  album  of  a  Mrs.  Balderstone  of  Baltimore,  Maryland.  He  further 


NOTES  315 

states  that  the  headline  "Alone,"  and  the  date  "Baltimore,  March  17, 
1829,"  were  not  in  Poe's  hand;  also  that  the  account  in  Scribner's,  that 
the  poem  was  written  shortly  before  Poe  left  West  Point,  is  an  error. 


SPIRITUAL  SONG 
Text,  Poe  MS. 

This  fragment  of  a  poem,  but  a  most  striking  fragment,  which  is 
written  entirely  in  Poe's  well-known  later-day  hand  with  all  the  char 
acteristics  of  punctuation  and  heading,  was  left  by  him  in  his  desk  at 
the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  office,  Richmond,  Virginia.  Both  the 
desk  and  the  manuscript  are  now  in  my  possession.  The  poem  is  of 
special  interest,  because  of  the  dearth  of  Poe's  new  poetry  while  editing 
the  Messenger.  It  also  tends  to  show  how  some  poetic  lines  impressed 
Poe's  mind,  and  with  what  consummate  skill  he  could  improve  upon 
other  ideas  with  his  own  words. 

The  poem  is  written  on  the  reverse  side  of  the  following  manuscript 
poem:— 

"SACRED  SONG 
O,  Strike  the  Harp 

"01  strike  the  harp,  while  yet  there  lies 
In  Music's  breath  the  power  to  please; 
And  if  the  tears  should  fill  mine  eyes, 
They  can  but  give  my  bosom  ease. 
But  hush  the  notes  of  Love  and  Mirth 
Too  welcome  to  my  heart  before; 
For  now  those  airs  that  breathe  of  earth 
Can  charm  my  pensive  soul  no  more. 

"Yes,  I  have  loved  the  world  too  well 
And  roved  in  Pleasure's  train  too  long; 
And  I  have  felt  her  sweetest  spell 
In  Beauty's  smile,  and  Passion's  song. 
But  now  my  soul  would  break  her  chains, 
While  yet,  perhaps  the  grace  is  given; 
Then  strike  the  Harp  to  Zion's  strains 
And  she  shall  soar  at  once  to  heaven." 


31 6  NOTES 

This  is  unsigned,  and  backed  "Anonymous  composition  for  the  Mes 
senger."  It  is  addressed  to  "Mr.  Thomas  W.  White,  Publisher  of  the 
Southern  Literary  Messenger,  Richmond,  Va."  and  has  the  postmark 
"Steam,"  showing  that  it  came  from  Norfolk,  Virginia,  by  steamer.  The 
poetry  evidently  made  some  impression  on  Poe's  mind,  and  while  he 
possibly  intended  to  re-write  it  in  his  own  way  and  made  a  good  start, 
yet  for  some  reason  he  changed  his  mind,  and  instead  of  completing  it, 
hunted  up  and  found  the  author.  On  page  554  of  the  second  volume  of 
the  Messenger  for  August,  1836,  which  Poe  edited,  may  be  seen  the  poem 
printed  as  written  in  the  manuscript,  but  headed  "by  W.  Maxwell" 
and  so  indexed.  The  handwriting  of  the  "Sacred  Song"  is  that  of  Wil 
liam  Maxwell,  well  known  as  the  first  Secretary  of  the  Virginia  Histori 
cal  Societyi  and  a  poet  then  residing  at  Norfolk.  He  published  a  volume 
of  poems  in  Philadelphia  which  were  well  received  at  the  time.  He 
afterwards  contributed  other  poetry  to  the  Messenger  while  Poe  was 
the  editor.  It  is  also  a  matter  of  conjecture,  that  instead  of  completing 
the  "Spiritual  Song,"  Poe  decided  to  use  "Israfel,"  as  that  poem  also 
appeared  in  the  Messenger  for  August,  1836. 

In  this  connection  it  might  be  noted  that  Poe  evidently  wrote  his 
well-known  poem  of  "The  Conqueror  Worm  "  after  reading  Wallace 
Cone's  "Proud  Ladye,"  which  he  reviewed  for  Burton's  Gentleman's 
Magazine ,  June,  1840,  in  which  was  the  line  — 

"And  let  him  meet  the  Conqueror  worm." 

The  idea  in  the  verses  "Spiritual  Song"  is  also  met  with  in  his  poem 
"The  Haunted  Palace,"  fourth  verse,  fifth  line:  — 

"A  troop  of  echoes,  whose  sweet  duty 

Was  to  sing 
In  voices  of  surpassing  beauty 

The  wit  and  wisdom  of  their  king." 

ELIZABETH 

Text,  Poe  MS. 

This  poem  has  never  appeared  in  Poe's  own,  nor  in  the  later  edited 
editions  of  his  poetry.  It  was  taken  from  his  cousin  Elizabeth  Herring's 
album,  and  is  written  on  stained  and  slightly  charred  paper,  and  signed 
"Edgar."  The  handwriting  is  probably  that  of  between  1831  and  1834 
and  approximates  later  years.  It  is  an  acrostic,  spelling  "Elizabeth 


NOTES  317 

Rebecca."    The  manuscript  was  included  in  the  Pierce  auction  sale  at 
Philadelphia,  May  6,  1903.  It  is  now  in  the  collection  of  an  American 
collector.  The  text  is  from  a  facsimile  of  the  original  manuscript. 
Miss  Herring  lived  in  Baltimore,  where  Poe  visited  her. 


FROM  AN  ALBUM 

Text,  Poe  MS. 

This  poem,  like  the  preceding  one,  was  taken  from  the  album  of 
Elizabeth  Herring,  and  is  also  an  acrostic,  spelling  "Elizabeth."  There 
is  no  title  to  same,  and  it  is  signed  "  E.  A.  P."  It  has  never  appeared 
in  any  edition  of  Poe's  poems.  The  manuscript  was  also  sold  at  the 
Pierce  auction  sale  at  Philadelphia,  May  6,  1903,  and  is  now  in  the 
library  of  an  American  collector.  It  too  is  written  on  stained  and  slightly 
charred  paper.  Miss  Herring  stated  that  Poe  wrote  her  love  poetry  in 
the  early  days.  The  text  is  from  a  facsimile  of  the  original  manu 
script. 


TO  SARAH 

Text,  Southern  Literary  Messenger. 

These  lines  appeared  in  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  for  August, 
1835,  and  are  signed  "Sylvio."  In  a  memorandum  left  by  Poe  in  the 
"Duane"  copy  of  the  Messenger,  found  by  me  in  Boston,  Massachusetts, 
some  years  ago,  this  poem  and  an  unpublished  story  were  both  acknow 
ledged  by  Poe. 

The  lines  were  evidently  intended  for  Sarah  Elmira  Royster,  his  early 
sweetheart.  They  might  be  read  in  connection  with  the  early  1829  lines 
commencing  "I  care  not  that  my  earthly  lot  — " 


THE  GREAT  MAN 

Text,  Poe  MS. 

This  poem,  entirely  in  the  hand  of  Poe,  is  written  on  paper  stamped 
"Owen  &  Hurlbut,  So.  Lee  Mass."  The  oldest  employee  of  the  firm 
wrote  that  the  paper  was  made  and  used  in  the  2o's  or  so's.  The 


31 8  NOTES 

manuscript  was  found  In  Poe's  desk  used  by  him  at  the  Southern  Literary 
Messenger  office,  Richmond,  Virginia.  The  word  "  winds"  in  line  four 
teen  was  changed  to  "breezes  "  in  the  manuscript  by  Poe. 
In  note  5  to  "Tamerlane"  Poe  wrote:  — 

" Who  hardly  will  conceive 


That  any  should  become  'great,'  born 
In  their  own  sphere  — 

"  Although  Tamerlane  speaks  this,  it  is  not  the  less  true.  It  is  a  matter 
of  the  greatest  difficulty  to  make  the  generality  of  mankind  believe  that 
one  with  whom  they  are  upon  terms  of  intimacy  shall  be  called,  in  the 
world,  a 'great  man.'  The  reason  is  evident.  There  are  few  great  men. 
Their  actions  are  consequently  viewed  by  the  mass  of  the  people  through 
the  medium  of  distance.  The  prominent  parts  of  their  characters  are 
alone  noted;  and  those  properties,  which  are  minute  and  common  to 
every  one,  not  being  observed,  seem  to  have  no  connection  with  a  great 
character.  Who  ever  read  the  private  memorials,  correspondence,  &c., 
which  have  become  so  common  in  our  time,  without  wondering  that 
'great  men'  should  act  and  think  '  so  abominably '  ?  " 

It  is  evident  that  Poe  afterwards  changed  his  early  views  on  the  sub- 
jest,  or  it  is  a  case,  as  he  states  in  his  poem  of  "Elizabeth,"  of  "innate 
love  of  contradiction,"  which  characterized  some  of  his  writings.  During 
the  later  period  of  his  life  Poe  was  known  to  have  written  a  poem  called 
"The  Great,  or  The  Beautiful  Physician."  Mrs.  William  Wiley  had 
it  from  her  mother,  and  is  quite  confident  that  the  "Physician"  manu 
script  was  long  in  her  family,  but  of  late  years  had  gone  astray.  J.  H. 
Ingram  had  a  note  in  the  January,  1909,  New  York  Bookman,  in  which 
he  gave  the  particulars  of  a  lost  poem  by  Poe,  "The  Beautiful  Phy 
sician,"  as  told  to  him  by  Mrs.  Shew. 

With  Poe's  known  habit  of  using  the  early  text  of  his  poems  in  later 
life,  it  is  not  improbable  that  this  early  poem  was  revised  and  made  do 
duty  again  as  "The  Great  Physician." 


GRATITUDE.  TO 


Text,  The  Symposia. 

This  poem  is  signed  E.  A.  P.,  and  was  published  in  "The  Symposia," 

volume  i,  no.  I,  8vo,  pp.  4.  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  January  27, 1848. 

It  was  sold  at  auction  in  Boston  in  the  spring  of  1896.  The  poem  is 


NOTES  319 

supposed  to  have  been  addressed  to  Mrs.  S.  H.  Whitman,  and  was  for 
the  benefit  of  some  church  or  fair  in  that  city. 


AN  ENIGMA 

Text,  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine. 

This  appeared  in  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  May,  1840,  and 
was  preceded  by  the  following:  — 

"  PALINDROMES 

"  A  word,  a  verse,  or  sentence,  that  is  the  same  when  read  backwards 
or  forwards  —  such  as  Madam-eye,  and  a  few  others  are  palindromes; 
so  that  like  the  bourgeoise  gentilhomme,  who  talked  prose  all  his  life  with 
out  knowing  it,  we  repeat  extemporary  palindromes  daily,  in  utter 
ignorance  of  our  talent.  This  is  a  redeeming  quality,  by  the  bye,  to 
conceal  any  quality  we  have,  when  we  are  so  proud  of  displaying  those 
we  have  not.  Indeed,  our  talents  may  be  often  divided  in  the  same  way 
as  some  hand-writing  I  have  heard  of;  first,  such  as  nobody  can  find  out; 
secondly,  what  none  but  ourselves  can  discover;  and  thirdly,  what  our 
friends  can  also  discern.  We  subjoin  an  English  palindrome  by  Taylor* 
the  Water-poet:  — 

'  Lewd  did  I  live,  and  evil  I  did  dwell.' 

And  an  enigma  where  all  the  words  required  are  palindromes;  the  answers 
will  be  easily  discovered." 

IMPROMPTU 

TO  KATE  CAROL 

Text,  Broadway  Journal. 

This  is  printed  in  the  Editorial  Miscellany  of  the  Broadway  Journal 
of  April  26,  1845.  In  Foe's  notices  to  Correspondents,  March  29,  in  the 
Journal  appears  "A  thousand  thanks  to  Kate  Carol."  The  issue  of 
April  5  contains  a  poem  "The  Rivulet's  Dream,"  signed  Kate  Carol, 
preceded  by  the  following  Poe  note:  "We  might  guess  who  is  the  fair 
author  of  the  following  lines,  which  have  been  sent  us  in  a  MS.  evidently 
disguised,  —  but  we  are  not  satisfied  with  guessing,  and  would  give  the 
world  to  know." 

Mrs.  Frances  Sargent  Osgood  has  some  verses  "Love's  Reply,"  the 
following  week,  reading  as  a  response.  Strong  external  evidence  indicates 
that  these  lines  of  Foe's  were  intended  for  Mrs.  Osgood. 


32O  NOTES 

STANZAS 
Text,  Graham's  Magazine,  December,  1845. 

In  Mrs.  Frances  Sargent  Osgood's  own  copy  of  Graham's  Magazine  for 
December,  1845,  she  marked  these  Stanzas  to  herself,  and  added  Poe's 
name  to  the  signed  initial  "P." 

The  romance  between  Mrs.  Osgood  and  Poe  had  then  been  going  on 
steadily  for  some  months.  There  were  also  other  previous  references  to 
each  other  in  Graham's  Magazine  and  the  Broadway  Journal.  About  the 
time  this  poem  was  written  there  had  arisen  some  misunderstanding,  or 
Mrs.  Osgood's  family  had  interceded  in  the  matter.  These  lines  followed 
Mrs.  Osgood's  verses  addressed  to  Poe  called  "Israfel"  in  the  November 
Broadway  Journal  and  may  have  been  intended  as  Poe's  answer. 

THE  DIVINE  RIGHT  OF  KINGS 
Text,  Graham's  Magazine,  October,  1845. 

In  an  old  leather-bound  copy  of  Graham's  Magazine  for  the  years 
1845-46,  once  owned  by  Mrs.  Frances  Sargent  Osgood,  she  marked  this 
poem  signed  "  P, "  as  by  Poe.  The  markings  of  her  own  writings  in  the 
same  volume  show  that  the  lines  were  an  impromptu  reply  of  Poe's  to 
some  words  of  hers  in  a  story  published  in  the  August,  1845,  number  of 
Graham's  Magazine,  called  "Ida  Grey." 

The  text  and  additional  markings  of  Mrs.  Osgood  to  this  tale  make  it 
read  like  an  idealized  account  of  her  first  meeting  with  Poe  as  written  in 
a  letter  to  R.  W.  Griswold.  Her  hero,  like  Poe,  "  has  grey  eyes  of  singular 
earnestness;  manners  coldly  courteous;  with  depth  to  the  tone  of  his 
voice.  His  lightning  intellect  was  irresistible."  And  like  Poe  he  had  a 
wife.  In  one  passage  she  wrote:  "He  bids  me  tell  him  that  I  love  him,  as 
proudly  as  if  he  had  a  right,  an  unquestionable,  an  undoubted,  a  divine 
right  to  demand  my  love.  Ah!  With  what  grand  and  simple  eloquence 
he  writes! " 

From  this  it  might  be  taken  that  Poe's  letters  to  Mrs.  Osgood  were 
equally  as  interesting  and  eloquent  as  those  he  wrote  to  Mrs.  Whitman 
and  to  "Annie." 

In  some  way  R.  W.  Griswold  had  obtained  possession  of  this  volume 
of  Mrs.  Osgood's  and  no  doubt  the  matters  made  him  the  more  anxious 
to  secure  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Osgood  written  to  Poe.  Mrs.  Clemm  wrote 
Mr.  lagram,  Poe's  English  biographer,  that  Griswold  had  made  her  a 


NOTES  321 

liberal  offer  of  money  for  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Osgood,  but  fearing  that 
poverty  might  force  her  to  give  them  up,  as  well  as  others  her  "Eddie" 
had  entrusted  to  her  care,  she  finally  destroyed  them. 

This  story  of  "Ida  Grey,"  with  its  close  references  to  Poe's  romance 
with  Mrs.  Osgood,  must  have  been  talked  about  by  Poe's  contemporaries 
at  the  time.  While  the  Mrs.  Whitman  romance  was  going  on  later,  as 
Poe's  published  letters  to  Mrs.  Whitman  show,  his  "pestilential  literary 
women  friends"  kept  busy  sending  Mrs.  Whitman  stories  detrimental  to 
Poe's  character,  while  she  in  turn  almost  swamped  Poe  with  interroga 
tories.  Among  Mrs.  Whitman's  inquiries  to  Poe  was  something  about 
this  story  of  "Ida  Grey."  It  may  be  recalled  that  Poe  is  alleged  to  have 
first  written  to  Mrs.  Whitman  under  the  assumed  name  of  "Edward  S. 
T.  Grey."  In  reply  to  Mrs.  Whitman's  inquiry,  Poe  merely  stated, 
"Mrs.  O.'s  'Ida  Grey'  is  in  Graham's  for  August  —  '45." 

THE  VITAL  STREAM 
Text,  Poe  MS. 

A  facsimile  of  this  poem  entirely  in  Poe's  handwriting  is  preserved, 
but  the  original  manuscript  seems  to  be  lost.  The  poem  was  discovered 
among  the  Ellis  &  Allan  papers  in  the  Library  of  Congress  at  Washing 
ton  among  a  number  of  other  Poe  documents.  It  was  written  by  Poe 
Just  after  his  return  from  college  in  1827,  and  at  a  time  when  his  love 
disappointments  with  Miss  Royster  were  most  keenly  felt.  This  is  Poe's 
earliest  known  manuscript  verse. 

"DEEP  IN  EARTH  MY  LOVE  IS  LYING" 
Text,  Poe  MS. 

This  couplet  in  faint  pencil  in  Poe's  autograph  was  discovered  in  the 
New  York  Public  Library  in  October,  1914.  It  is  written  on  the  back  of 
an  original  holograph  manuscript  of  Poe's  poem  "EulaJie."  It  was  laid  in 
a  leatherette-bound  copy  book  used  as  an  autograph  album  about  the 
period  of  1845  to  1850.  It  is  written  on  light  bluish  tinted  writing  paper 
common  to  the  period  in  which  it  was  produced,  and  like  Poe  used  during 
the  latter  part  of  his  life.  There  is  pasted  on  the  lower  right-hand  corner 
of  the  poem  "Eulalie,"  on  a  strip  of  white  paper,  "Respt.  Yr.  Ob.  St. 
Edgar  A.  Poe";  evidently  taken  from  one  of  Poe's  letters.  It  is  a  con 
jecture  that  the  lines  were  written  in  the  year  1845,  although  they  may 


322  NOTES 

date  after  the  death  of  Foe's  wife  in  1847.  The  couplet  is  printed  in  the 
New  York  Public  Library  Bulletin  for  December,  1914,  Vol.  XVIII. 
No.  12. 

LINES  TO  JOE  LOCKE 
Text,  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum,  March  4,  1843. 

The  verses  appear  in  a  sketch  of  Poe's  life  published  in  the  Philadelphia 
Saturday  Museum,  March  4, 1843,  with  many  other  well-known  and  fully 
authenticated  poems  by  Poe. 

Joe  Locke  was  an  inspector  of  tactics,  and  an  ex  officio  officer  of  the 
barracks,  at  the  West  Point  Academy  while  Poe  was  there  in  1830-31. 
The  principal  duty  of  Inspector  Locke  was  to  report  any  violations  of 
instructions.  It  is  said  by  Poe's  contemporaries  that  No.  28,  South 
Barracks,  where  Poe  sojourned  with  two  other  cadets,  gave  Locke  plenty 
to  report. 

Poe  was  hopeful  that  this  lampoon  would  earn  his  dismissal,  but  it  was 
overlooked.  The  lines  eluded  the  observation  of  Poe's  earlier  editors  of 
his  poems,  but  appeared  among  the  "Notes"  in  the  revised  Life  of  Poe 
by  Professor  G.  E.  Woodberry.  A  cadet  who  roomed  with  Poe  at  West 
Point  has  also  published  one  verse  erroneously  of  the  poem  from  mem 
ory  in  Harper's  New  Monthly  Magazine  for  November,  1867.  This  was 
copied  into  the  Virginia  Poe,  Vol.  I. 


NOTES  MAINLY  ON  CHANGES 

AND  ADDITIONS  IN  THE  VARIORUM 
TEXT  OF  THE  POEMS 

Sources  of  the  text  for  E.  A.  Foe's  poems,  page  183.  After  Griswold'i 
1850  edition  of  Poe's  poems  should  follow  Griswold's  "Gift  Leaves 
of  American  Poetry."  1849. 

The  Raven,  page  224.  The  "Raven  "  first  appeared  in  the  Evening 
Mirror  of  January  29, 1845.  This  form  of  the  poem  was  carried  over  into 
the  Weekly  Mirror  of  February  8,  1845,  as  it  is  shown  by  the  error  in 
both  issues,  in  the  tenth  stanza  of  the  poem.  In  the  fifth  line  the  word 
"he"  is  repeated. 

To  One  in  Paradise,  page  252.  A  holograph  manuscript  of  Poe's,  and 
signed  "Edgar  Allan  Poe,"  of  this  poem  has  been  discovered  within  tht 
past  year.  It  has  the  heading  "To  One  Departed,"  which  was  used  once 

before  by  Poe  to  his  poem  "To  F ,"  published  in  Graham's  Magazine 

for  March,  1842.  There  are  only  three  stanzas,  the  third  stanza  as  left 
by  Poe  in  his  1845  revision  being  cut  out.  It  closely  follows  the  earlier 
versions  of  the  poem  and  was  probably  written  prior  to  1845.  There  are 
a  few  punctuation  changes,  and  in  the  last  line  "eternal  streams"  is 
changed  to  "Elysian  streams."  The  history  of  the  manuscript  is  not 
fully  traced. 

Eulalie  —  A  Song,  page  254.  A  manuscript  of  this  poem  in  the  auto* 
graph  of  Poe  was  discovered  in  the  New  York  Public  Library  in  October, 
1914.  It  was  laid  loose  in  an  autograph  album,  a  part  of  the  collection  of 
R.  L.  Stuart  presented  to  the  library  in  1892.  It  is  written  on  a  light 
bluish  tinted  paper  similar  to  writing  paper  used  by  Poe.  On  the  lower 
right-hand  corner  of  the  poem  is  pasted  "Respt.  Yr.  Ob.  St.  Edgar  A. 
Poe";  the  salutation  and  signature  of  Poe,  evidently  extracted  from 
a  Poe  letter.  There  is  written  on  the  back  of  the  manuscript  in  faint 
pencil  an  original  couplet  by  Poe.  The  poem  and  lines  it  is  conjectured 
were  written  in  1845,  although  they  may  date  later,  or  after  the  death  of 
his  wife  in  1847.  A  fac-simile  of  the  poem  appears  in  the  New  York 
Public  Library  Bulletin  for  December,  1914,  Vol.  XVIII,  No.  12. 

Xo  f- 3  s.  0 d,  page  254.    The  original  manuscript  to  thest 


324  NOTES 

verses  as  first  written  by  Poe  have  been  discovered  since  the  issue  of  the 
first  edition  of  this  volume.  When  Miss  Herring  was  married  she  ex 
changed  albums  with  a  girl  friend.  Both  albums  had  in  them  poetry 
written  by  Poe.  The  album  of  Miss  Herring  with  Poe's  verse  has  been 
found,  but  that  of  her  friend,  with  other  Poe  matters  Miss  Herring  was 
known  to  hold,  has  so  far  eluded  vigilant  search.  The  lines  are  entirely 
in  Poe's  autograph  and  were  written  in  the  album  of  his  cousin  Elizabeth 
Herring,  at  Baltimore  some  time  between  the  years  1832-34.  They  are 
signed  "E  A  P."  and  read  as  follows:  — 

TO  ELIZABETH 

Would'st  thou  be  loved?  then  let  thy  heart 
From  its  present  pathway  part  not  — 
Be  everything  which  now  thou  art 
And  nothing  which  thou  art  not: 

So  with  the  world  thy  gentle  way, 
And  unassuming  beauty 
Shall  be  a  constant  theme  of  praise, 
And  love  —  a  duty. 

The  Haunted  Palace,  page  257.  This  poem  was  printed  by  R.  W.  Gris 
wold  in  his  "  Gift  Leaves  of  American  Poetry."  New  York,  1849.  The 
last  revised  manuscript  made  by  Poe  of  this  poem  was  sent  to  Griswold 
by  Poe  prior  to  his  death,  but  it  arrived  too  late,  or  for  some  unknown 
reason  Griswold  printed  and  followed  the  earlier  versions  of  the  poem. 
In  the  Aristidean  for  October,  1845,  is  a  review  of  Poe's  Tales.  The  edi 
tor,  T.  D.  English,  was  ill  about  this  time,  and  it  is  stated  that  Poe  with 
a  few  other  friends  made  up  several  issues  of  the  magazine.  One  of  the 
numbers  is  in  the  library  of  a  book  collector  marked  in  pencil  with  the 
names  of  the  contributors  of  the  articles.  This  handwriting  closely  ap 
proximates  Poe's.  If  Poe  did  not  write  the  review  in  the  October  Aristi 
dean,  he  must  surely  have  inspired  many  facts  therein  stated.  In  the 
mention  of  "The  Haunted  Palace,"  it  is  said,  "This  was  originally  sent 
to  O'Sullivan,  of  the  Democratic  Review,  and  by  him  rejected,  because 
he  found  it  impossible  to  comprehend  it." 

Scenes  from  "Politian,"  page  258.  The  following  fragment  from 
the  first  scene  of  Act  II.  of  "Politian,"  was  with  the  original  manu 
script. 


NOTES  325 

Duke.  Why  do  you  laugh? 

Casliglione.  Indeed 

I  hardly  know  myself.  Stay!  Was  it  not 
On  yesterday  we  were  speaking  of  the  Earl? 
Of  the  Earl  Politian?   Yes!  it  was  yesterday. 
Alessandra,  you  and  I,  you  must  remember! 
We  were  walking  in  the  garden. 

Duke.  Perfectly. 
I  do  remember  it  —  what  of  it  —  what  then? 

Cos.  O  nothing  —  nothing  at  all. 

Duke.  Nothing  at  all! 
It  is  most  singular  that  you  should  laugh 
At  nothing  at  all! 

Cos.  Most  singular  —  singular! 

Duke.  Look  you,  Castiglione,  be  so  kind  1 
As  to  tell  me,  sir,  at  once  what 't  is  you  mean. 
What  are  you  talking  of? 

Cas.  Was  it  not  so? 
We  differed  in  opinion  touching  him. 

Duke.  Him!  — Whom? 

Cas.  Why,  sir,  the  Earl  Politian. 

Duke.  The  Earl  of  Leicester!  Yes!  —  is  it  he  you  mean? 
We  differed,  indeed.  If  I  now  recollect 
The  words  you  used  were  that  the  Earl  you  knew 
Was  neither  learned  nor  mirthful. 

Cas.  Ha!  Ha!  —  now  did  I? 

Duke.  That  did  you,  sir,  and  well  I  knew  at  the  time 
You  were  wrong,  it  being  not  the  character 
Of  the  Earl  —  whom  all  the  world  allows  to  be 
A  most  hilarious  man.  Be  not,  my  son, 
Too  positive  again. 

Cas.  'T  is  singular! 

Most  singular!  I  could  not  think  it  possible 
So  little  time  could  so  alter  one! 
To  say  the  truth  about  an  hour  ago, 
As  I  was  walking  with  the  Count  San  Ozzo, 
All  arm  in  arm,  we  met  this  very  man 
The  Earl  —  he,  with  his  friend  Baldazzar, 
Having  just  arrived  in  Rome.  Ha!  Ha!  he  is  altered! 
Such  an  account  he  gave  me  of  his  journey! 


326  NOTES 

T  would  have  made  you  die  with  laughter  —  such  tales  he  told 

Of  his  caprices  and  his  merry  freaks 

Along  the  road  —  such  oddity  —  such  humor  — 

Such  wit  —  such  whim  —  such  flashes  of  wild  merriment 

Set  off  too  in  such  full  relief  by  the  grave 

Demeanour  of  his  friend  —  who,  to  speak  the  truth, 

Was  gravity  itself  — 

Duke.  Did  I  not  tell  you? 

Cos.  You  did  —  and  yet 't  is  strange!  but  true  as  strange. 
How  much  I  was  mistaken!  I  always  thought 
The  Earl  a  gloomy  man. 

Duke.  So,  so,  you  see! 
Be  not  too  positive.  Whom  have  we  here? 
It  cannot  be  the  Earl? 

Cos.  The  Earl!  Oh  no! 

T  is  not  the  Earl  —  but  yet  it  is  —  and  leaning 
Upon  his  friend  Baldazzar.  Ah!  welcome,  sir! 

(  Enter  Politian  and  Baldassor.) 
My  lord,  a  second  welcome  let  me  give  you 
To  Rome  —  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Broglio. 
Father!  this  is  the  Earl  Politian,  Earl 

Of  Leicester  in  Great  Britain.   (Politian  bows  haughtily.)  That,  his  friend 
Baldazzar,  Duke  of  Surrey.  The  Earl  has  letters, 
So  please  you,  for  Your  Grace. 

Duke.  Ha!  ha!  Most  welcome 
To  Rome  and  to  our  palace,  Earl  Politian! 
And  you,  most  noble  Duke!  I  am  glad  to  see  you! 
I  knew  your  father  well,  my  Lord  Politian. 
Castiglione!  call  your  cousin  hither, 
And  let  me  make  the  noble  Earl  acquainted 
With  your  betrothed.  You  come,  sir,  at  a  time 
Most  seasonable.  The  wedding  — 

Politian.  Touching  those  letters,  sir, 
Your  son  made  mention  of  —  your  son,  is  he  not?  — 
Touching  those  letters,  sir,  I  wot  not  of  them. 
If  such  there  be,  my  friend  Baldazzar  here  — 
Baldazzar!  ah!  —  my  friend  Baldazzar  here 
Will  hand  them  to  Your  Grace.  I  would  retire. 

Duke.  Retire!  So  soon? 

Cas.  What  ho!  Benito!  Rupert  I 


NOTES  327 

His  lordship's  chambers  —  show  his  lordship  to  them! 
His  lordship  is  unwell. 

(Enter  Beniio.) 

Ben.  This  way,  my  lord!  (Exit,  followed  by  Politian.) 

Duke.  Retire  1  Unwell! 
Bal.  So  please  you,  sir,  I  fear  me 
T  is  as  you  say  —  his  lordship  is  unwell. 
The  damp  air  of  the  evening  —  the  fatigue 
Of  a  long  journey  —  the — indeed  I  had  better 
Follow  his  lordship.  He  must  be  unwell. 
I  will  return  anon. 

Duke.  Return  anon! 
Now  this  is  strange!  Castiglione! 
This  way,  my  son,  I  wish  to  speak  with  thee. 
You  surely  were  mistaken  in  what  you  said 
Of  the  Earl,  mirthful,  indeed!  which  of  us  said 

Politian  was  a  melancholy  man?  (.Exeunt.) 

In  the  tale  called  "William  Wilson"  Poe  mentions  the  "palazzo  of 
the  Neapolitan  Duke  Di  Briglio."  In  the  letter  of  J.  P.  Kennedy  to 
T.  W.  White  dated  April  13,  1835,  mention  is  made  of  Poe  at  iTork  on 
a  tragedy,  which  was  probably  "Politian."  In  Poe's  miscellanies  called 
"Pinakidia"  he  says:  "Politian,  the  poet  and  scholar,  was  an  admirer 
of  'Alessandria  Scala.'  "  In  this  drama  Poe  has  one  of  his  characters 
named  "Alessandria." 

The  manuscript  of  the  soliloquy  spoken  by  "  Politian  "  alone  in  the  Coli 
seum,  which  ended  the  drama,  has  recently  come  to  light.  It  was  ab 
stracted  from  the  other  manuscript  of  the  drama  by  Mrs.  Lewis,  and 
with  a  manuscript  by  Poe  of  one  of  her  own  poems  presented  by  her  to 
an  autograph  collector  many  years  ago.  It  will  be  noted  that  Poe's  verses 
on  "The  Coliseum"  were  evidently  made  up  from  this  soliloquy  which 
reads  in  part  as  follows:  — 

"  Gaunt  vestibules,  and  phantom-peopled  aisles, 

I  feel  ye  now!  I  feel  ye  in  your  strength! 

0  spells  more  sure  than  e'er  Judean  king 

Taught  in  the  gardens  of  Gethsemane! 

O  spells  more  potent  than  the  rapt  Chaldee 

Ever  drew  down  from  out  the  quiet  stars! 

She  comes  not  and  the  moon  is  high  in  HeavenI 

Here  where  the  hero  fell  a  column  falls, 

Here  where  the  mimic  eagle  glared  in  gold 


328  NOTES 


A  secret  vigil  holds  the  swarthy  bat, 
Here  where  the  dames  of  Rome  their  yellow  hair 
Waved  to  the  wind,  now  wave  the  reed  and  thistle; 
Here  where  on  ivory  couch  the  Caesar  sate 
On  bed  of  moss  lies  gloating  the  foul  adder; 
Here  where  on  golden  throne  the  monarch  lolled 
Glides  spectre-like  into  his  marble  home, 
Lit  by  the  wan  light  of  the  horned  moon, 
The  swift  and  silent  lizard  of  the  stones." 

A  Valentine,  page  270.  This  poem  also  appeared  in  the  New  York 
Evening  Mirror  for  February  21,  1846.  It  closely  follows  the  Griswold 
manuscript  version  with  the  exception  of  "All"  in  the  third  line  from 
the  last  instead  of  "Ah." 

For  Annie,  page  272.  The  author's  last  copy  published  of  this  poem 
was  sent  to  the  Home  Journal  by  Poe,  and  appeared  April  28, 1849.  The 
introductory  note  in  the  Home  Journal  has  never  been  reproduced  until 
now.  It  was  headed  "Odd  Poem,"  and  continued  —  "The  following 
exquisite  specimen  of  the  private  property  in  words  has  been  sent  us  by 
a  friend,  and  we  are  glad  to  be  able  to  add  it  to  the  scrap-book  of  singu 
larities  in  literature  which  so  many  of  our  fair  readers,  doubtless,  have 
upon  the  table.  Poe  certainly  has  that  gift  of  nature,  which  an  abstract 
man  should  be  most  proud  of  —  a  type  of  mind  different  from  all  others 
without  being  less  truthful  in  its  perceptions  for  that  difference;  and  though 
(to  use  two  long  words)  this  kind  of  idiosyncrasy  is  necessarily  idio- 
pathic,  and,  from  want  of  sympathy,  cannot  be  largely  popular,  it  is  as 
valuable  as  rarity  in  anything  else,  and  to  be  admired  by  connoisseurs 
proportionately.  Money  (to  tell  a  useless  truth)  could  not  be  better  laid 
out  for  the  honor  of  this  period  of  American  literature  —  neither  by  the 
government,  by  a  society,  nor  by  an  individual  —  than  in  giving  Edgar 
Poe  a  competent  annuity,  on  condition  that  he  should  never  write  except 
upon  impulse,  never  dilute  his  thoughts  for  the  magazines,  and  never 
publish  anything  till  it  had  been  written  a  year.  And  this  because  the 
threatening  dropsy  of  our  country's  literature  is  in  copying  the  Gre- 
gariousness  which  prevails  in  everything  else,  while  Mr.  Poe  is  not  only 
peculiar  in  himself,  but  unsusceptible  of  imitation.  We  have  Bulwers 
by  hundreds,  Mrs.  Hemanses  by  thousands,  Byrons  common  as  shirt- 
collars,  every  kind  of  writer  'by  the  lot,'  and  less  of  individualesque 
genius  than  any  other  country  in  the  world.  This  extends  to  other  things 
as  well.  Horace  Greeley  is  a  national  jewel  (we  think)  from  being 
humbly  yet  fearlessly  individualesque  in  politics  and  conduct.  What  is 


NOTES  329 

commonly  understood  by  eccentricity  is  but  a  trashy  copy  of  what  we 
mean.  The  reader's  mind  will  easily  pick  out  instances  of  the  true  in- 
dividualesque,  in  every  walk  of  life,  and,  as  a  mere  suggestion,  we  here 
leave  it  —  proceeding  to  give  Mr.  Poe's  verses:  —  'FOR  ANNIE.' " 

Tamerlane,  page  279.  In  Poe's  letter  to  Mrs.  S.  H.  Whitman,  dated 
October  18,  1848,  he  quoted  the  following:  "I  will  erect,"!  said,  "a 
prouder  throne  than  any  on  which  mere  monarch  ever  sat;  and  on  this 
throne  she  —  she  shall  be  my  queen."  This  idea  is  found  in  these  lines, 
stanzas  xi  and  xn. 

Al  Aaraaf,  page  298.  In  connection  with  Poe's  first  note  to  this  poem 
on  "Tycho  Brahe."  His  interest  in  the  Swedish  astronomer  is  further 
shown  by  a  note  in  the  Broadway  Journal,  vol.  2,  Ntf.  19,  under  the 
heading  of  "News  of  Tycho  Brahe." 

In  a  letter  to  John  Neal  dated  December  29, 1829,  Poe  wrote:  "I  think 
the  best  lines  for  sound  are  these  in  Al  Aaraaf, 

There  Nature  speaks  and  even  ideal  things 
Flap  shadowy  sounds  from  visionary  wings." 

Romance,  page  300.  In  a  letter  to  John  Neal  dated  December  39, 1829, 
Poe  wrote: "  But  the  best  thing  [in  every  respect]  is  the  small  piece  headed 
'Preface.'  I  am  certain  these  lines  have  never  been  surpassed  [Lines  35- 
39, 1829,  quoted]  'It  is  well  to  think  well  of  one's  self — so  says  some 
body." 

An  Enigma,  page  319.  This  appeared  anonymously  in  the  Philadelphia 
Casket  for  May,  1827,  and  the  supposition  is  that  it  was  among  other 
poetry  sent  out  by  Poe  before  he  left  Richmond  in  March,  1827.  It 
constitutes  the  earliest  known  published  verse  of  Poe's. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

[THE  following  abbreviations  are  used:  —  Y.  L.  G.,  The  Yankee 
and  Boston  Literary  Gazette;  A.  C.,  Atkinson's  Philadelphia 
Casket;  B.  J.,  Broadway  Journal;  S.  L.  M.,  Southern  Literary 
Messenger;  B.  G.  M.,  Burton's  Gentleman's  Magazine;  G.  M., 
Graham's  Magazine;  S.  M.,  Philadelphia  Saturday  Museum; 
Pio.,  The  Pioneer;  A.  W.  R.,  American  Whig  Review;  S.  E.  P., 
Philadelphia  Saturday  Evening  Post;  S.  M.  V.,  Baltimore  Satur 
day  Morning  Visiter;  A.  M.,  Baltimore  American  Museum;  G.  L. 
B-,  Godey's  Lady's  Book;  M.  M.,  New  York  Missionary  Memorial; 
E.  M.,  Evening  Mirror;  C.  M.,  Columbia  Magazine;  H.  J.,  Home 
Journal;  S.  U.  M.,  Sartain's  Union  Magazine;  U.  M.,  Union 
Magazine;  C.,  London  Critic;  N.  Y.  T.,  New  York  Tribune;  F.  U, 
Flag  of  Our  Union;  Gr.  1842,  The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America, 
1842;  Gr.  1855,  The  Poets  and  Poetry  of  America,  1855;  L.  W., 
Literary  World;  W.,  Richmond  Whig;  Gr.  1850,  Griswold's  1850 
Works  of  E.  A.  Poe;  L.  E.,  Literary  Emporium;  J.  L.  G.,  J. 
Lorimer  Graham  copy  of  1845,  poems  with  Poe's  MS.  correc 
tions;  MSS.  Copy  of  1829  poems  with  Poe's  MS.  corrections;  E., 
Richmond  Examiner.  The  editions  of  1827,  1829,  1831,  and  1845 
are  indicated  by  dates;  MS.,  Poe's  Manuscript.] 

1827.    i.  The  Vital  Stream  (No  title),  1827;  MS. 

2.  An  Enigma.   Philadelphia  Casket,  May,  1827;  B. 

G.  M.,  May,  1840. 

3.  Tamerlane.    1827;   extracts  in  Y.  L.  G.,  Dec., 

1829;  1829;  MS.  1829;  1831;  1845. 

4.  Song  (I  saw  thee  on  thy  bridal  day).    (To  ), 

1827,  with  same  title,  and  1829;  MS.  1829  (In 
an  Album);  B.  J.,  ii.  n;  1845. 

5.  Dreams.   1827;  MS.  1829. 

6.  Spirits  of  the  Dead.    (Visit  of  the  Dead),  1827; 

1829;  MS.  1829;  B.  G.  M.,  July,  1839. 


334  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

7.  Evening  Star.  1827. 

8.  A  Dream  within  a  Dream.    (Imitation),  1827; 

extract  in  Y.  L.  G.,  Dec.,  1829,    (To  ), 

1829;  incorporated  in  Tamerlane,  1831;  For 
Annie,  MS.  London  Bookman,  Jan.,  1909;  (To 
),  E.,  Oct.,  1849;  F.  U.,  March  31, 1849. 

9.  (In  Youth  Have  I  Known  One  With  Whom  The 

Earth).  (No  title),  1827.  The  title  "Stanzas" 
is  the  late  E.  C.  Stedman's. 

10.  A  Dream.    (No  title),  1827;  1829;  B.  J.,  ii,  6; 

1845- 

11.  (The  Happiest  Day,  The  Happiest  Hour).    (No 

title),  1827. 

12.  The  Lake,  To .   (The  Lake),   1827;  1829; 

MS.  1829;  incorporated  in  Tamerlane  1831,  but 
not  in  1845;  1845;  M.  M.,  1846. 

1829.  13.  Sonnet — To  Science.  (No  title),  1829;  A.C.,  1830; 
1831;  S.  L.  M.,  May,  1836;  in  the  Island  of 
the  Fay,  G.  M.,  June,  1841;  B.  J.,  ii,  4;  1845. 

14.  Al  Aaraaf.  Extracts  in  Y.  L.  G.,  Dec.,  1829;  re 
vised  in  MSS.;  1829;  1831;  extracts  in  S.  M., 
March  4,  1843;  1845;  extracts  in  G.  M.,  Feb., 
1845;  extracts  in  S.  L.  M.,  Oct.,  1848. 

;  15.  To .   (The  bowers,  whereat,  in  dreams  I  see). 

1829;  B.  J.,  ii.  ii ;  1845. 

16.  To   the   River  .    1829;   MS.    1829,  (In   an 

Album);  B.  G.  M.,  Aug.,  1839;  S.  M.,  March  4, 
184356.  J.,  ii,  9;  1845. 

» 17.  To .   (I  heed  not  that  my  earthly  lot).    (To 

M ).  1829;  MS.  no  date,  Gr.,  1850. 

18.  Fairy-Land.  Extracts  in  Y.  L.  G.,  Sept.,  1829; 
1829;  1831;  B.  G.  M.,  Aug.,  1839;  B.  J.  ii,  13; 
1845. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  335 

'  XQ.  Romance  (Preface),  1829;  revised  in  MSS.;  (In 
troduction),  1831;  S.  M.,  March  4, 1843;  B.  J., 
ii,  8;  1845. 

20.  Alone.  (No  title),  MS.  (From  an  Album)  Scrib- 
ner's  Magazine,  Sept.,  1875.  Title  E.  L.  Didier's. 
Another  portion  of  MS.  with  title  exists,  but 
has  some  connection  with  17. 

1831.  21.  To  Helen.  1831;  S.  L.  M.,  March,  1836;  G.  M., 
Sept.,  1841,  and  Feb.,  1845;  S.  M.,  March  4, 
1843;  1845. 

22.  Israfel.   1831;  S.  L.  M.,Aug.,  1836;  G.  M.,  Oct., 

1841;  S.  M.,  March  4,  1843;  B.  J.,  ii,  3;  1845; 
revised  in  J.  L.  G.;  E.,  Oct.,  1849. 

23.  The  City  in  the  Sea.   (The  Doomed  City),  1831; 

(The  City  of  Sin),  S.  L.  M.,  Aug.,  1836;  A.  W. 
R.;  (subtitle,  A  Prophecy),  April,  1845;  B. 
J.,  ii,  8;  1845;  revised  in  J.  L.  G. 

24.  The  Sleeper.  (Irene),  1831;  MS.  (Irene  the  Dead), 

1836;  S.  L.  M.,  May,  1836;  Gr.,  1842;  S.  M., 

March  4,  1843;  B.  J.,  i,  18;  1845;  extracts  in 

letter  to  Griswold,  April  19,  1845;  revised  in 

J.  L.  G.;  E.,  Oct.,  1849. 
,  25.  Lenore.  (A  Paean),  1831,  and  with  same  title,  S.  L. 

M.  Jan.,  1836;  Pio.,  Feb.,  1843;  S.  M.,  March  4, 
•  1843;  B.J.,ii,6;  1845;  G.M.,Feb.,  1845;  W., 

Sept.  18,  1849;  revised  in  J.  L.  G.;  E.,  Oct., 

1849;  extracts  in  S.  L.  M.,  May,  1849;  Gr., 

1850. 
,.  26.  The  Valley  of  Unrest.   (The  Valley  Nis),  1831; 

and  with  same  title,  S.  L.  M.,  Feb.,  1836; 

A.  W.  R.,  April,  1845;  B.  J.,  ii,  9;  1845. 
27.  Lines  to   Joe  Locke.    MS.,  S.   M.,  March  4, 

1843. 


336  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

1832.  28.  Elizabeth.  Written  in  his  cousin  Elizabeth  Her 

ring's  album  about  1832. 

29.  From  an  Album.    From  his  cousin  Elizabeth 

Herring's  album  about  1832. 

30.  To  F s  S.  0 d.    (To  Elizabeth),  written 

in  his  cousin  Elizabeth  Herring's  album  about 
1832.  (Lines  written  in  an  Album),  S.  L.  M., 

Sept.,  1835;  (To ),  B.  G.  M.,  Aug.,  1839 

(To  F ),  B.  J.,  ii,  10;  1845. 

(31.  Hymn.  (No  title),  MS.  of  Morella  about  1832-33; 
S.  L.  M.  (in  Morella),  April,  1835;  and  in  the 
same  tale,  B.  G.  M.,  Nov.,  1839;  Tales,  1840 
and  B.  J.,  (Catholic  Hymn),  ii,  6,  and  with 
same  title,  1845;  revised  in  J.  L.  G. 
32.  Scenes  from  Politian.  (Scenes  from  an  Unpub 
lished  Drama),  MS.  about  1831-32;  S.  L.  M., 
Dec.,  1835,  Jan.,  1836;  1845;  extracts  in  B.  J., 
i,  13;  revised  inj.  L.  G.  Extracts  in  The 
Southern  Magazine,  Nov.,  1875;  extracts  in  The 
"  Chandos  Classics."  London  and  New  York, 
1888. 

1833.  33-  The  Coliseum.  S.  M.  V.,  1833 ;  S.  L.  M.  (with  sub 

title  A  Prize  Poem),  Aug.,  1835;  also  with  sub 
title,  S.  E.  P.,  June  12,  1841;  (Coliseum),  Gr., 
1842;  S.  M.,  March  4,  1843;  B.  J.,  ii,  i;  1845; 
extracts  from  MS.  in  The  Bibliophile,  London, 
May,  1909. 

1834.  34.  To  One  in  Paradise.  (No  title),  G.  L.  B.  (in  The 

Visionary),  January,  1834,  and  S.  L.  M.  (in  the 
same),  July,  1835;  (To  lanthe  in  Heaven),  B. 
G.  M.,  July,  1839;  Tales  (in  The  Visionary), 
1840;  S.  M.,  March  4, 1843;  MS.  prior  to  1845, 
witlf title  "To  One  Departed,"  B.  J.,  i,  19;  B. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  337 

J.  (in  The  Assignation),  i,  23;  1845;  revised  in 
J.  L.  G.;  from  MS.;  London  Spectator,  Jan.  i, 
1853;  same  in  L.  W.,  Feb.  5,  1853. 

1835.  35.  The  Great  Man.    MS.     From  Poe's  Southern 

Literary  Messenger  desk.  Written  on  paper 
made  prior  to  1836. 

36.  To  F— .  (To  Mary),  S.  L.  M.,  July,  1835;  (To 

One  Departed),  G.  M.,  March,  1842;  and  with 
same  title,  S.  M.,  March  4,  1843;  B.  J.,  i,  17; 
1845. 

37.  To  Sarah.  S.  L.  M.,  Aug.,  1835. 

1836.  38.  Spiritual  Song.   MS.  from  Poe's  Southern  Lit 

erary  Messenger  desk,  1836. 

39.  Latin  Hymn,  in  tale  Four  Beasts  in  One.  S.  L.  M. 
title  (Epimanes),  March,  1836;  1840;  B.  J.,  ii, 
22. 

f  40.  Song  of  Triumph,  in  Four  Beasts  in  One.  S.  L.  M. 
title  (Epimanes),  March,  1836;  1840;  B.  J.,  ii, 
22. 

1837.  41.  Bridal  Ballad,  S.  L.  M.,  Jan.,  1837;  (Ballad), 

S.  E.  P.,  July  31,  1841;  (Song  of  the  Newly 
Wedded),  S.  M.,  March  4,  1843;  B.  J.,  ii,  4; 
1845;  revised  in  J.  L.  G.;  E.,  Oct.,  1849. 
42.  Sonnet  —  To  Zante.  S.  L.  M.,  Jan.,  1837;  S.  M., 
March  4, 1843;  MS.  1840;  B.  J.,  ii,  2;  1845. 

1839.  43.  The  Haunted  Palace.    A.  M.,  April,  1839;  (No 

title),  B.  G.  M.;  (in  the  Fall  of  the  House  of 
Usher),  Sept.,  1839,  and  Tales  (in  the  same), 
1840;  Gr.,  1842 ;  S.  M.,  March  4, 1843  (No  title) ; 
G.  M.,  Feb.,  1845;  revised  in  J.  L.  G.;  Tales 
as  before,  1845;  MS.  about  1849;  E.,  Oct., 
1849. 

1840,  44.  Silence.  (Silence.  A  Sonnet),  B.G.M.,  April,  1840; 


338  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

(Sonnet  —  Silence),  S.  M.,  March  4, 1843;  and 
with  title,  B.  J.,  ii,  3;  1845. 

1843.  45.  The  Conqueror  Worm.  G.  M.,  Jan.,  1843;  MS.; 

S.  M.,  March  4,  1843;  B.  J.  (in  Ligeia),  ii,  12; 
revised  in  J.  L.  G.;  1845;  MS.  about  1849;  E., 
Oct.>  1849. 

1844.  46.  Dream-Land.   G.  M.,  June,  1844;  B.  J.,  i,  26; 

1845;  revised  in  J.  L.  G.;  E.,  Oct.  29,  1849. 

1845.  47.  The  Raven.  A.  W.  R.,  Feb.,  1845;  E.  M.,  Jan.  29, 

1845;  same  text  in  weekly  issue  Feb.  8,  1845; 
S.  L.  M.,  March,  1845;  extracts  in  Shea  MS.; 
C.,  June,  1845;  extracts  in  B.  J.,  i,  21;  ex 
tracts  in  letter  to  Griswold,  April  19,  1845; 
L.  E.,  1845;  extracts  in  G.  M.,  April,  1846;  re 
vised  in  J.  L.  G.;  E.,  Sept.  25,  1849. 

48.  The  Divine  Right  of  Kings.  G.  M.,  Oct.,  1845. 

49.  Stanzas.  G.  M.,  Dec.,  1845. 

50.  Impromptu.  (To  Kate  Carol).  B.  J.,  i,  17. 

51.  Eulalie.  A.  W.  R.,  (subtitle,  A  Song),  July,  1845; 

MS.,  no  date;  also  with  subtitle,  B.  J.,  ii,  5;  1845; 
revised  in  J.  L.  G. 

52.  Deep  in  Earth  My  Love  is  Lying.  MS. 

1847.  53.  To  M.  L.  S .  MS.,  Feb.,  1847.  (To  Mrs.  M. 

L.  S.);  H.  J.,  March  13,  1847.  Addressed  to 
Mrs.  M.  L.  Shew. 
54.  Ulalume.    A  BALLAD.  A.  W.  R.  (subtitle,  To 

),  December,  1847;  H.  J.,  Jan.  i,  1848; 

L.  W.,  March  3, 1849;  E.,  Oct.,  1849;  Gr.,  1850 
and  1855;  MS.,  1849. 

1848.  55.  Gratitude.  Symposia.  Jan.,  1848. 

56.  To .   C.  M.,  March,  1848,  addressed  to 

Mrs.  M.  L.  Shew;  MS.,  (To  Marie  Louise), 
1848. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  339 

57.  Sonnet,  U.  M.,  March,  1848.  MS.  sent  to  Mrs. 

S.  A.  Lewis,  in  Nov.,  1847;  (An  Enigma).  Gr., 
1850. 

58.  To .  U.  M.,  Nov.,  1848,  addressed  to  Mrs. 

S.  H.  Whitman;  (To  Helen),  Gr.,  1850.  MS. 
sent  to  Bayard  Taylor,  June  15,  1848. 

1849.  59.  A  Valentine.  To .  E.  M.,  Feb.  21, 1846; 

S.  U.  M.,  March,  1849;  F.  U.,  March  3,  1849, 
dated  "Valentine  Eve,  1849";  MS.  1846  and 
1848.  Addressed  to  Mrs.  Frances  Sargent 
Osgood. 

60.  Eldorado,  F.  U.,  April  21,  1849;  Gr.,  1850. 

61.  For  Annie.  F.  U.  and  H.  J.,  April  28,  1849,  E., 

Oct.,  1849;  MS.  sent  to  Mrs.  Richmond,  1849; 
Gr.,  1850.  Another  MS.,  with  same  title,  sent 
Mrs.  Richmond  later,  has  reference  to  8. 

62.  Sonnet  —  To  My  Mother.  F.  U.    (To  My  Mo 

ther),  July  7,  1849;  E.,  Oct.,  1849;  S.  L.  M., 
Dec.,  1849;  Leaflets  of  Memory,  1850. 

63.  Annabel  Lee.  N.  Y.  T.,  Oct.  9,  1849;  S.  L.  M., 

Nov.,  1849;  S.  U.  M.,  Jan.,  1850.  E.,  Oct., 
1849;  MS.,  1849;  Gr.,  1850,  and  1855. 

64.  The  Bells.  E.,  Oct.,  1849;  S.  U.  M.,  Nov.,  1849; 

MS.,  1849. 


INDEXES 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 

A  thousand,  a  thousand,  a  thousand 158 

Ah,  broken  is  the  golden  bowl!  —  the  spirit  flown  forever!     ...    21 

As  for  Locke,  he  is  all  in  my  eye 153 

As  turns  the  eye  to  bless  the  hand  that  led  its  infant  years   .    .    .  144 

At  midnight,  in  the  month  of  June 17 

At  morn  —  at  noon  —  at  twilight  dim  — 23 

Because  the  angels  in  the  Heavens  above 78 

Beloved!  amid  the  earnest  woes 34 

By  a  route  obscure  and  lonely 26 

Deep  in  earth  my  love  is  lying 152 

Dim  vales  —  and  shadowy  floods  —       132 

Elizabeth  it  is  in  vain  you  say 141 

Elizabeth  —  it  surely  is  most  fit 140 

Fair  isle,  that  from  the  fairest  of  all  flowers 28 

Fair  river!  in  thy  bright,  clear  flow 130 

Fairies  guard  the  Queen  of  May 164 

First,  find  out  a  word  that  doth  silence  proclaim 146 

Flow  softly  —  gently  —  vital  stream 151 

For  her  these  lines  are  penned,  whose  luminous  eyes 73 

From  childhood's  hour  I  have  not  been 135 

Gaily  bedight 79 

Hark,  echo!  — Hark;  echo! 139 

Hear  the  sledges  with  the  bells  — 63 

Helen,  thy  beauty  is  to  me « 134 

I  dwelt  alone •• 32 

I  heed  not  that  my  earthly  lot 131 

I  saw  thee  once  —  once  only  —  years  ago 70 

I  saw  thee  on  thy  bridal  day  — "7 

In  Heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 24 

In  the  greenest  of  our  valleys 38 

In  visions  of  the  dark  night 126 

In  youth  have  I  known  one  with  whom  the  Earth 124 

In  youth's  spring  it  was  my  lot 128 

It  was  many  and  many  a  year  ago 80 


344  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 

Kind  solace  in  a  dying  hour! 89 

Lady!  I  would  that  verse  of  mine 148 

Lo!  Death  has  reared  himself  a  throne 29 

Lo!  one  is  on  the  mountain  side 159 

Lo!  't  is  a  gala  night 36 

Not  long  ago,  the  writer  of  these  lines 68 

0!  Nothing  earthly  save  the  ray 99 

Of  all  who  hail  thy  presence  as  the  morning  —    .......    67 

Oh!  that  my  young  life  were  a  lasting  dream! 118 

Oh  Times!  Oh  Manners!  It  is  my  opinion 168 

Once  it  smiled  a  silent  dell 14 

Once  upon  a  midnight  dreary,  while  I  pondered,  weak  and  weary  .      7 

Romance,  who  loves  to  nod  and  sing ,    .    .    .  116 

Science!  true  daughter  of  Old  Time  thou  art! 98 

"  Seldom  we  find,"  says  Solomon  Don  Dunce ,    .    .    69 

Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  another  hour 166 

So  sweet  the  hour  —  so  calm  the  time 175 

Take  this  kiss  upon  thy  browl 123 

Thank  Heaven!  the  crisis  — 74 

The  bowers  whereat,  in  dreams,  I  see 129 

The  dying  swan  by  northern  lakes 165 

The  great  man  lives  forever  shrined  in  the  hearts  of  men  ....  143 

The  happiest  day  —  the  happiest  hour 127 

The  only  king  by  right  divine 150 

The  ring  is  on  my  hand    . 15 

The  skies  they  were  ashen  and  sober 82 

There  are  some  qualities  —  some  incorporate  things 35 

Thou  art  sad,  Castiglione 40 

Thou  dark,  sea^stirring  storm 162 

Thou  wast  that  all  to  me,  love 31 

Thou  wouldst  be  loved?  —  then  let  thy  heart 33 

Thy  soul  shall  find  itself  alone       ISO 

T  was  noontide  of  summer 122 

Type  of  the  antique  Rome!  Rich  reliquary 19 

When  from  your  gems  of  thought  I  turn 147 

When  melancholy  and  alone 142 

IVho  is  king  but  Epiphanes? 157 


INDEX  OF  TITLES 


"A  wilder'd  being  from  my  birth." 

See  Dream,  A. 
AI  Aaraaf,  99,  298,  329. 
Alone  (From  an  Album),  135. 
Annabel  Lee,  80,  274. 
Annie.    See  For  Annie. 

Bells,  The,  63,  262. 
Bridal  Ballad  (Ballad;  Song  of  the 
Newly  Wedded),  15,  233. 

Catholic  Hymn.    See  Hymn. 
City  in  the  Sea,  The.  (City  of  Sin; 

The  Doomed  City),  29,  250. 
Coliseum,  The,  19,  239. 
Conqueror  Worm,  The,  36,  256. 
Couplet  ("Deep  in  earth  my  love  is 

lying"),  152,  321. 

"  Deep  in  earth  my  love  is  lying," 

152. 
Divine  Right  of  Kings,  The,  150, 

320. 
Doomed  City,  The.  See  City  in  the 

Sea,  The. 

Dream,  A,  126,  308. 
Dream  within  a  Dream,  A.     See 

To . 

Dream-Land,  26,  249. 
Dreams,  118,  303. 

Eldorado,  79,  274. 
Elizabeth,  140,  316. 
Enigma,  An,  146,  319,  329.    (Son 
net,  69,  269.) 

Eulalie  — A  Song,  32,  254,  323. 
Evening  Star,  122,  305. 


Fairy-Land,  132,  312. 
Fanny,  165. 

For  Annie,  74,  272,  328. 
From  an  Album,  141, 317;  (AloneX 
135,  314. 

Gratitude,  To ,  144,  318. 

Great  Man,  The,  143, 317. 

Haunted  Palace,  The,  38,  257,  324. 
Helen.  See  To  Helen. 
Hymn  (Catholic  Hymn),  23,  246. 
Hymn,  Latin,  158. 

Imitation.     See  Dream  within  a 

Dream,  A. 
Impromptu  (To  Kate  Carol),  147, 

319. 
"In  Youth  have  I  known  one  with 

whom  the  Earth,"  124,  308. 
Introduction.  See  Romance. 
Irene  (Irene  the  Dead).  See  Sleeper, 

The. 
Israfel,  24,  247. 

Lake,  The.  To ,  128,  308. 

Lenore  (Paean,  A),  21,  241. 
Lines  to  Joe  Locke,  153,  322. 

Magician,  The,  162. 

Oh,  Temporal  Oh,  Mores!  167. 

Paean,  A.  See  Lenore. 
"Politian,"  Scenes  from  An  Un 
published  Drama,  40,  258,  324. 


346 


INDEX    OF    TITLES 


Preface.    See  Romance. 
Queen  of  May  Ode,  164. 

Raven,  The,  7,  224,  323. 

River.    See  To  the  River . 

Romance  (Introduction;  Preface), 
116,  300,  329. 

Sarah.    See  To  Sarah. 

Scenes  from  "  Politian."  See  "  Poli- 
tian,"  Scenes  from  An  Unpub 
lished  Drama. 

Science.  See  Sonnet  to  Science. 

Serenade,  175. 

Silence.    See  Sonnet  to  Silence. 

Skeleton-Hand,  The,  159. 

Sleeper,  The.  (Irene;  Irene  the 
Dead),  17,  236. 

Song  (To "I  saw  thee  on  thy 

bridal  day"),  117,  303. 

Song  of  the  Newly  Wedded.  See 
Bridal  Ballad. 

Song  of  Triumph,  157. 

Sonnet  ("  Seldom  we  find  "),  69, 269. 

Sonnet  —  Silence  (Silence.  A  Son 
net),  35,  255. 

Sonnet  —  To  My  Mother,  78,  273. 

Sonnet  —  To  Science,  98,  297. 

Sonnet  — To  Zante,  28,  250. 

Spirits  of  the  Dead  (Visit  of  the 
Dead),  120,  304. 

Spiritual  Song,  139,  315. 

Stanzas,  148,  320. 

Tamerlane,  89,  279,  329. 

"The  Happiest  Day,  the  Happiest 

Hour,"  127,  308. 
To (A   Dream   within   a 

Dream),  123,  305. 


To (To  Marie  Lou 
ise;  Mrs.  M.  L.  Shew),  68,  268. 

To (Mrs.  S.  H. 

Whitman),  70,  269. 

To  F (To  Mary;  To  One  De 
parted),  34,  254. 

To  F s  S.  O d;  To  Elizabeth 

(Lines  written  in  an  Album;  To 
;  To  F ),  33,  254,  323. 

To  Helen,  134,  314. 

To  ("I  need  not  that  my 

earthly  lot"),  131,  310. 

To  lanthe  in  Heaven.  See  To  One 
in  Paradise. 

To  Kate  Carol.  See  Impromptu. 

To ("Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  an 
other  hour"),  166. 

To ("The  bowers  whereat,  in 

dreams,  I  see"),  129,  310. 

To  M.  L.  S ,  67,  268. 

To  My  Mother.  See  Sonnet  to  My 
Mother. 

To  One  Departed.  See  To  F . 

To  One  in  Paradise  (To  lanthe  in 
Heaven;  To  One  Departed),  31, 
252,  323- 

To  Sarah,  142,  317. 

To  the  River ,  130,  310. 

Ulalume  —  A  Ballad,  82,  276. 

Valentine,  A.    To , 

73.  270,  328. 
Valley  of  Unrest,  The  (The  Valley 

Nis),  14,  231. 
Visit  of  the  Dead.  See  Spirits  of  the 

Dead. 
Vital  Stream,  The,  151,  321. 

Zante.   See  Sonnet  to  Zante. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  onfthAlast  date  stamped  below. 


*E(TD 
!{5f 

"•auuftwi 


KL  JUN  2  *«»--', 


tD  URL 

f    MAY  3 
DISCHARGE-Unt 


JUH     1  'fc'/u    Ij 

Form  L9-Series  4939 


3  1158  00030  7305 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000120577    2 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


C'EIVED 


Biomedical  Libra 


